


From The Middle, Towards the Unseen Edge

by coldfiredragon



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Depression, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Heavy Drinking, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Magic, Quentin gets expelled and it's three years later, strong Margo and Eliot friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 42,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: One of them remembers and the other doesn't. Three years following his expulsion from Brakebills Quentin's missing memory and the lies Eliot told him to keep magic secret are about to leave their relationship in ruins. When Julia tries to intervene she sets a series of events in motion that puts them all in danger.Written for 'The Trials' Welters Challenge 2017





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags! This fic gets pretty heavy in the later chapters!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a private party runs long Eliot gets home to find Quentin already asleep.

The sound of glass bottles knocking against one another filled Eliot's ears as he lifted a crate and followed Margo through the portal Josh had opened for them. It was late, a little after two. Typically, at this point in the night, the three of them would be sniping at one another, but the event had gone well, and they were in high spirits. 

"If you want to go home, go home. Josh and I can put everything away." Margo said as he set the crate on the bar that ran up the sides and across the back of the shop the three of them co-owned. 

"Taking twenty minutes putting everything away isn't going to make a difference. It'll be one less thing that has to be done tomorrow, uh, later this morning." Eliot opened the box and shifted through the bottles to read the labels. A few rose upward, then floated towards the appropriate places on the shelves lining the walls. 

“Your telekinesis does make this part go faster.” Margo agreed. She walked back through the portal and returned with the last box as Eliot finished putting away what he had brought through. Josh's jaw was stretched in a wide yawn as he tagged after her; his arms were laden with the last of his catering supplies. 

“They paid you right?” He asked before disappearing into the small kitchen at the back of the shop. 

"Of course they paid me!" Eliot opened the crate Margo had brought through and started to sort the wine stock back onto the racks. It had been a great night, truth be told. He was finally beginning to reach the clientele he'd wanted since his business had opened. The upper echelon of New York's magical society had deep pockets and was willing to pay for private events like the wine tasting he'd spent the last few hours hosting. The night had given him the opportunity to pass around his business card. He'd even managed to add another stop to the list of California wineries he planned to visit during his upcoming trip. 

His planner floated from the office as he dragged a stool away from the bar to sit down. He flipped through the pages and jotted down the information before securing the business card to the calendar page. The book almost snapped shut on his fingers. 

"El, go home." Eliot's eyes landed on the glossy dark red nails that pinned his book closed. He tracked his gaze up Margo's arm. "Go home." She repeated. 

“Only if you insist.” Eliot slipped off the stool and walked back into the office to grab the black cashmere trench coat that was draped over his desk chair. He heard his keys jingle in the front pocket as he pulled the double breast closed across his chest. Nimble fingers quickly slipped the buttons through their loops. Soft leather gloves were buried in the pocket with his keys, which shifted as he leaned down to pick up the striped scarf that had pooled on the hardwood floor. 

“Do you need me to do anything else before I take off?” Eliot glanced towards the door, where Josh hovered. 

"Check with Bambi," Eliot said as he reached across his desk to collect his laptop. He slipped it into its leather case. The cord pulled itself from the wall and coiled into a neat bundle before he snatched it from the air and tucked it into the side pocket. Margo had released his planner by the time he got everything together. "I'll see you in the morning." He said to her as he leaned to kiss her cheek. 

“Just wait, and come in after lunch.”

“Margo...”

“Go home, and say hi to the little nerd boy for me.” A tired smile graced Eliot's face. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

“Now get moving, you too Hoberman.”

"Don't stay here all night," Eliot told her as he walked towards the front of the shop. Josh was already waiting for him with the door held open. Cool October air raced in through the gap. Eliot saw a few fallen leaves swirl along the sidewalk outside. 

"I'll have this place locked down in less than fifteen minutes," Margo promised. That was enough to satisfy Eliot. He heard the bell over the door chiming faintly as stepped out onto the street and pulled the door closed behind him. The shop's name had been painted in white over the door and curved in a circle on the window to his right. Josh had wanted to pick something absurd, but Eliot had been more realistic. 'W.H.H. Fine Wine and Crafted Spirits' was professional. It had a way of rolling off his tongue. 

"It seemed like a good night," Josh said as they walked down the street towards a side alley where they could make portals. Eliot bobbed his head in agreement. 

“I know you prefer to be the silent partner in all this, but Bambi and I appreciate you helping with the desserts. The almond petit fours and maple bacon bites seemed to be the evening's favorite. We might make those again.” 

"Were you able to schedule another event while we were at the party?" 

“Several of them expressed interest in hosting similar events. We'll see if any of them call me back.” Eliot leaned against the alley wall as he watched Josh build his portal.

"Lemme know, I guess." Josh seemed less than excited to be called to cater again anytime soon. His portal sparked open, and the shorter man waved as he walked towards it. "Tell Q I said hey." He called before he disappeared. The portal snapped closed behind him, and Eliot started to build his own. The gateway opened into a gap between two buildings about a block and a half from the townhouse he'd found following his graduation from Brakebills. He hadn't actually bought the place, but he'd used a few spells on the Realtor who had shown it to him. On all the books that mattered the property was legally in his name. 

It felt chillier in the quiet Brooklyn neighborhood than it had outside the shop, but it would probably be warm again in a week if the recent trend in climate continued. As he got closer to the house, Eliot used his telekinesis to lift the latch on the short gate at the bottom of the steps. One hand gripped his laptop bag, and he dug for his keys with the other as he walked upward towards the door. Warm air replaced cold as he stepped into the foyer. 

To his left, the dining room was dark and silent, but the living room to his right was illuminated by the faint glow of the television. Quentin was stretched out on the leather couch. Whatever he had been watching had transitioned to an infomercial after he'd fallen asleep. A book lay open across his chest. A haphazardly stacked pile of reading material for Quentin's master's thesis was stack on the low coffee table that stretched most of the length of the couch. The book spines were cast in shadow and unreadable.

Warm fondness bubbled in Eliot's chest as he took a moment to watch the other man sleep. He would probably never understand how Quentin had stolen his heart so quickly, or why he'd let one person have such a profound effect on him. The life he had now had never been a consideration until he'd met Q. A house of his own, a business of his own, a slowly budding career – Eliot wasn't sure if any of it would have happened if Quentin hadn't been expelled. 

The weeks between Quentin leaving Brakebills and finding him again in New York had been the most hollow Eliot had ever felt in his life. Nothing had lifted him out of his lethargy. It was like an integral piece of his life had been cut away. There had been a drive to keep the promise he'd made as Quentin was walking to return his books before meeting the specialist. At the time, it had been a half-hearted boast to make both of them feel better but once he started looking he hadn't been able to stop until he'd found him. 

The key to tracking him down had been the tiny handful of friends that he'd met the single time he'd gone with Quentin to New York. Once he'd found the guy, James, it hadn't taken much to find Q. The younger man had been a different person. The school stripping him of his memory and magic had gutted him and kicked him into a downward tailspin. He'd gotten to see the full force of Quentin's depression on display. 

With a sigh, Eliot finally unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the free-standing rack by the door. He crossed into the living room and dropped his laptop bag into one of the chairs that matched the sofa. The remnants of Quentin's evening lay scattered across the floor and the free space of the table. Eliot let his boyfriend continue to sleep as he quietly gathered up the empty dishes and soda cans. He walked through the dining room on silent feet and used his powers to flip the kitchen light. 

A pizza box sat open on the counter, and Eliot lifted out one of the thin wide slices, then folded it down the middle and bit into it. The peppery sausage was a sharp contrast to the sweet finger desserts that had sustained him through most of the evening. He finished the slice, closed the box, and slid it onto an empty rack in the refrigerator. Quentin still hadn't stirred when he returned to the living room. 

“Q?” Eliot leaned down to shake Quentin's shoulder. Brown eyes blinked open, and Quentin stretched. 

"Hey, you." The sleepy mumble made Eliot smile, and he dropped onto the narrow edge of the couch beside him. Long fingers brushed the hair from Quentin's face. "What time is it?" 

"Late," Eliot said. Quentin twisted to glance at the clock on the DVR box. 

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah.” Eliot glanced towards the pile of reading material. He'd hoped to be home shortly after midnight.

“Did it go well?”

“It went great!” The party had been a lively wine and dessert service rife with magic. He wanted to sweep Quentin up to their room and tell him every detail, but Quentin didn't remember magic. It wasn't something Eliot felt he could easily share either. They had been together almost three years, two in a long distance relationship while he'd finished Brakebills and the last year living as a couple. How was he supposed to explain that he had kept such an integral secret for so long? Eliot felt like he'd trapped himself. The longer he waited, the worse the truth would hurt them. Everything hidden between them was already starting to damage their relationship, especially as he gained more magically inclined clients. 

“What time do you have to be at work in the morning?” 

"Margo is going to open the shop." A fond smirk crossed Eliot's face. "She's ordered me not to show my face until after lunch." A soft laugh drifted to his ears as he stood. He offered Quentin, his hand. "Let's go to bed, Love." Quentin's fingers slipped into his and Eliot tugged him up off the sofa. The shorter man followed him up to their room and sat on the edge of the bed. 

"Come here for a second," Quentin told him as Eliot started to take steps in the direction of the walk-in closet. 

“Hmm?” 

"Just come here." Eliot walked back to him and grinned when fast, nimble fingers wrapped below the knot of his tie to pull him down onto their bed. His hands braced himself on either side of Quentin's shoulders as he was yanked into an insistent kiss. "I miss you." Quentin murmured as his arms circled Eliot's neck. 

"I miss you too," Eliot said. The double life he was living was going to destroy everything he cared about, and he had no idea how to stop the oncoming train.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Eliot spend the morning together.

Quentin woke up the next morning to Eliot's head on his shoulder, and one arm was thrown around his waist. Waking up together had become a rare event, usually only reserved for the weekends. He tucked a soft dark curl behind Eliot's ear. The other man was often up and already gone by this point in the morning. They seemed to see each other less and less, and Quentin was absolutely dreading Eliot's ten-day trip to California. 

Quentin wasn't sure which of them was more to blame for how little they saw one another. Almost all of his free time was dedicated to finishing his thesis and the last semester of his master's program; Eliot's business was growing far faster than either of them had expected. It had expanded so quickly that Quentin felt like he'd been outpaced. He was still confined by his classes while Eliot had a life outside them that he barely felt part of. It was getting more difficult to figure out where he fit, or why Eliot stayed with him. 

He almost missed when they had been dating long distance. When Eliot's graduate program had kept him upstate, instead of in the city, at least there had been a reason they hadn't seen one another every day. Quentin missed being randomly met after his last late class with coffee when Eliot managed to get away for an evening. It had felt special. He had felt special. 

Eliot's face furrowed in his sleep, and the arm around him tightened. Quentin wondered what he was dreaming about. Quentin ran his over the tattoo between Eliot's shoulder blades. From what Eliot had told him Josh and Margo had similar designs. It had been a post-graduation act of stupidity. 

"El? Hey, wake up." Sleep-heavy amber eyes shot open; Eliot's visage scrunched in confusion, then relaxed in relief. He had a way of looking at him that made Quentin feel like he was something precious that would disappear. Quentin half expected the kiss, but the intensity of it surprised him. 

“Morning,” Eliot whispered as the kiss broke. Quentin's reply became a groan as Eliot started to kiss along his neck. Despite all the insecurity and anxiety that clouded parts of their life together, when they were alone like this Quentin could tell that Eliot absolutely adored him. “Can you go to lunch with me before I have to go in?” Eliot asked. 

"If you want." Quentin hesitated for a moment. "No phone, and don't pass out your business cards." 

"Done." It pleased Quentin more than he liked to admit that Eliot agreed so readily. If he hadn't added the stipulation, it was entirely likely that 'lunch' would have become a phone conversation between Eliot and one of his clients. El would be gone for over a week, the least he could do was give him as much of his undivided attention as he could now. 

“Are you sure you can't delay this trip until I finish the semester?”

"Q, it's a business trip. If you're going to go, I want it to be just us, not us plus Josh and Margo. What if we schedule something following the semester?" It was the first time Eliot had floated the idea of just the two of them going somewhere alone. 

"Where would we go?" Eliot rolled, and Quentin moved with him until he ended up on top. 

“Venice maybe, or London., or wherever. You pick, and I'll schedule the time.”

"Promise?" Eliot's hand shifted under his jaw, and Quentin let his head be tilted. 

“If a trip is what you would like as a graduation gift then I'll make sure it happens.” Quentin grinned and surged upward to kiss him. He hadn't felt so enthusiastic about anything in months. The two of them needed a vacation. They needed time together, alone, and maybe it would help him stop feeling like his life was slowly unraveling. 

“Where are you taking me to for lunch?” 

“That depends on what you want. I need to shower first though.”

"Lemme take mine, so there's hot water left." A sly smirk chased across Eliot's face. He stretched his arms upward and tucked them behind his head as he lounged on the pillows. 

“Fine with me. I could use an extra half an hour of beauty rest.” Quentin chuckled. They both knew he wouldn't take that long. 

“We can just sleep in if you want.” Not having to deal with people was almost more appealing than going to lunch together. 

"I'm fine, go shower. I really can't keep Bambi waiting all day." Quentin rolled off of him and walked towards the en-suite bathroom. Eliot's closest friends were another part of Eliot's life where he felt a growing divide. He had been sure that Margo liked him in the beginning, but the longer he and Eliot were together the colder and more vexed with him she seemed to become. Josh was the same way. To Quentin the number of conversation that had ended or shifted the moment they realized he was close enough to hear were innumerable. 

He couldn't say with certainty that a single one of them was specifically about him, but he felt like they all were; they probably thought he was a waste of Eliot's time. While he was in the shower, he tried to pretend that the hot water was washing away some of the anxiety. He'd go to lunch, and then he'd go to campus and the library before his classes, maybe he would even call Julia to check and make sure he would still get to see her when Eliot was in California. 

Even Julia seemed to have outpaced him. For reasons unknown to him she had foregone grad school and her law degree to bounce aimlessly up and down the east coast. She had started sending him postcards – Boston, Atlanta, Pittsburgh, Charlotte; he had a whole bundle of them that were rubber-banded together in his dresser drawer. Julia had dropped everything to move to south-eastern France and the week of Eliot's trip would be the first time he'd seen her in six months. 

“Q? The half-hour quip was a joke, not a suggestion.” Quentin felt his cheek flame with embarrassment. He hadn't meant to get lost in his thoughts. He rinsed the last of his shampoo and stepped out onto the mat to dry off. Eliot stood at the double vanity with a toothbrush hanging out of one side of his mouth. He tossed Quentin a towel, then finished at the sink. 

When Quentin walked back into the bedroom, he noted that Eliot's clothes had been picked up from where they had been scattered the night before. He toweled his hair dry and pulled what he could of it into a loose tail, then got dressed and headed downstairs to gather what he would need for his evening classes. Eliot joined him in almost record time, his hair was dry and neat, though he hadn't bothered to shave. Quentin took a moment to admire how effortlessly Eliot managed to throw together a mixed three-piece suit. The two of them were such opposites when it came to style. 

“Are you ready?” He asked as he lifted his coat off the rack, then slung his laptop bag over his shoulder. Quentin nodded and grabbed his backpack to follow Eliot out the front door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margo and Eliot clash over some of the decisions Eliot has made, and Quentin gets a phone call from Julia.

By the time 1 o'clock rolled around Margo wished that she had made Eliot open the shop, not because she wanted to take away his time with Quentin, but because he was the one that really should have been there to field all the phone calls. News of the private party they had served the night before had rippled and created a lot of interest. She'd seen more foot traffic in the store then she had in a week. Unfortunately, most of those new customers had wanted to talk to Eliot, and she was worried that they might have lost a prospective client or two. 

The bell jingled as Eliot swept in with Quentin under his arm. The cold had flushed their cheeks pink. With Quentin in jeans, and Eliot in dress slacks they were every bit the mismatched pair, but for the moment at least they looked happy. Margo finished the sale she had started as the couple walked closer to the register. The notepad that she had been jotting down customer information in lay beside her on the counter and she pushed it in Eliot's direction. 

“There are my boys. I was starting to wonder if you had even made it out of bed this morning.” She wagged a finger at Eliot. “You turned your phone off.” She said. 

"So," Eliot responded. Quentin settled with his forearms crossed on the counter and Eliot's arms wrapped around his chest as he stood behind him.

“You have a dozen calls to make, and Alexis was late again this morning.” 

“How late?” Eliot leaned against Quentin as he reached for the notebook and rested his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder as he started to page through it. 

“Almost fifteen minutes, she says she missed her train, but she had coffee and was shocked to see me instead of you.” 

“I'll talk to her.” 

"She's been hiding downstairs from me as much as she can." Eliot nodded as one hand dipped into his coat pocket. It came back out with his phone and a Bluetooth earpiece. 

“Do I have permission to use these now?” He asked Quentin. “I need to make a couple of these calls.” A small smile quirked across the shorter man's face. 

"If you must. I have to go to the library before class anyway." 

“I really must.” Margo watched Eliot fit the earpiece in and adjust it around the helix of his ear. He lifted his bag off his shoulder and headed back towards his office. Quentin trailed behind him for a couple of steps, then hesitated, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to follow or not.

 

"Well go say goodbye!" Margo told him. Quentin looked almost relieved to have permission, and he darted after Eliot. From her spot at the counter, she could see Eliot's hands tangle in Quentin's hair as he leaned to kiss him goodbye for the day. 

“Call me later!” She heard Eliot tell him as Quentin exited back onto the floor. He nodded and waved.

"It looks like the two of you had a good morning," Margo told him as he passed her. She couldn't stop a hint of mischief from coloring her tone. 

"Yeah, thank you. Really, it was nice that we got to sleep in a little." He suddenly seemed so uncomfortable, and Margo wasn't sure why. It had only really gotten evident in the last few months. She had a growing fear that he was pulling away from all of them – not that she could blame him if he were. 

Eliot's decisions when it came to hiding magic from him baffled her. All of their lives would be so much easier if Quentin were in on the secret. He could have even gone to California with them, to parties, and events. There were days that she wanted to hand Quentin a full tumbler of good bourbon and wrap her arm around his shoulder as she explained everything. The only reason she hadn't was because it had gone on for so long that Eliot was the only one who could tell him. He was in so deep by this point that the truth was going to hurt no matter how it came out. 

Her best friend was probably going to get his heart broken, and Margo wasn't sure she'd be too sympathetic when it happened. She brushed her hair back behind her ear. Margo had every intention of continuing the small talk, but one of the customers finally brought two bottles of wine to her register. Quentin used the opportunity to slip out because he was gone when she finished ringing up the sale. While she was processing the second transaction, Alexis reappeared from the cellar with a box of wine to restock. Margo watched her as she replenished bottles here and there, then had her take over the register when she'd finished.

Eliot was still in his office, with his long legs propped on the desk and a notepad on his thigh. He scribbled notes as he walked animatedly with a client in Japanese. Margo heard California, and something about Thursday before Eliot was ending the call. 

“That seemed to go well.” She commented as she leaned against the door frame. 

“Yeah, we got invited to dinner.” 

"I heard that much. Did you and Q have a good morning?" Eliot dropped his feet to the floor, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "El?" 

“I promised him I'd take him to Europe as a graduation gift.” 

"You're fucking joking!" Margo stood up straighter and crossed her arms over her chest. "El are you nuts? You need to be here! I don't know half of what you do. You're the one training to be the expert and people want to talk to you." 

“I know!”

"Then why would you promise something like that?" Margo walked farther into the office, and the door pulled shut behind her. A privacy ward shimmered into place with a flick of Eliot's long fingers. 

“He asked me if I could push back the California trip until after he finished the semester.”

“To which the correct answer would have been fuck no.”

"I told him it was a business trip, and if he was going to go I just wanted it to be the two of us, then before I thought it through, I was suggesting we go somewhere alone. His face lit up, Bambi. I don't want to fall back on a promise like that. Things have been so rough. Lately, we've both been so busy." 

"It's a band-aid, you know that right? You two going off on vacation together isn't going to fix the real problem." 

“Bambi, please.”

"Don't Bambi me, Eliot! You have to tell him the truth! You know what, maybe you should go. I'll make it work somehow. On one condition." 

“What?” 

“That you tell him.”

“Margo...”

“Stop it, El!” Margo rested his hands on his desk and leaned towards him. “You are running out of chances. If you love him, if you really want to save your relationship with him, then you have to stop living two half lives. Q's a bright guy; he knows something is wrong. He knows you're lying to him.” 

"How do I tell him? You're so adamant that it happens. What's the strategy" Eliot was staring at his hands. He looked like he'd already accepted that everything he wanted and had worked so hard for, was going fall apart. 

“You make it about him, about not wanting to derail his master's degree, maybe, I don't know.”

“Maybe.” Eliot agreed. The idea had more promise than any thought that had crossed his mind. 

\----------------------------

Quentin stepped into the cold and silently assimilated himself into the bustle of the crowd around him. He flowed with the press of humanity towards the nearest metro entrance, then down the steps into the tunnels that crisscrossed New York's underbelly. By train, it didn't take him long to get from Eliot's shop to Columbia's campus. He'd just reached the street level again when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Julia's name flashed across the screen, and he thumbed across the device to accept the call. 

“Hey, Jules.” 

“Q! I tried to call, but it kept going to voicemail.”

“I was on the train.” 

“Do you have time to talk, or are you on your way to class?”

“I have time.” Quentin turned the corner and walked down the block till he reached his favorite coffee shop. He yanked the door open. The smell of roasting beans and warm air met him as he stepped inside. “Are you in New York yet?” 

“I just finished checking into the apartment I rented. I'm going to have lunch with my sister later today. When is Eliot leaving again?” 

"He and Josh are flying out Monday morning, but Margo isn't flying out until that evening." 

"That will work out great; it'll give me a couple of days to spend with my family, then I can spend the rest of the week with you. Hell, if you want you could even stay with me the whole time he's gone." Quentin laughed. He wasn't sure he wanted to leave the house unattended for more than a week, but a night or two was a possibility. It would depend on what level of loneliness he sank to and how depressed he became. The line shuffled forward, and Quentin grabbed a packet of chocolate espresso beans from the display of wrapped pastries. "Hold up a second, Jules." He dropped the hand holding the phone to list off his order, then paid. The phone returned to his ear as he milled with the press of college students waiting for their drinks. "What were you saying?" 

“I was saying we could even go out a night or two if you wanted.”

"No," Quentin said. The answer was vehement and immediate. If Eliot found out that he'd gone to a club in his absence, he'd probably assume the worst. Things already felt tenuous, and the last thing Quentin wanted was to make them worse. 

“You are allowed to have fun, you know.

“Since when did I ever find parties fun?” 

“Maybe, when you were like eight?” 

"Birthday parties were the worst, Julia!" Maybe they hadn't been when he'd been a child, but as he'd gotten older, his anxiety had overwhelmed all the fun. A barista called his name, and he slid the drink into a sleeve of recycled cardboard to avoid burning his hand. A pleasant warmth radiated through the barrier to warm his palm as he headed back into the cold. 

Julia continued to chat as Quentin walked towards campus, then across the grounds towards the library. It was kinda refreshing, but it also made him hyper-aware of how isolated he'd let himself become. Aside from Julia, and occasionally James, did he even have friends who hadn't been Eliot's first? 

“I've gotta let you go.” He told Julia as he walked along the stone path towards the Butler library main entrance. 

“Sure, Q. I'll see you in a couple of days!” She was the one to end the call. Quentin gulped down the last fourth of his drink and tossed the cup. He had almost two hours before his first class of the day, and a thesis paper on post-war British children's literature to work on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot leaves on his trip, unaware that some of the secrets he tries to keep aren't so secret.

The rest of the week passed in a blur, and the weekend, which he and El tried to save for one another, was eaten by last-minute preparations for Eliot's trip. It rubbed Quentin's nerves almost to the breaking point. He went to bed to lay down while Eliot was still finishing up. With Josh, the only one of Eliot's partners to have a car, picking him up around 5 in the morning for a flight out of JFK at 8 Quentin hadn't expected Eliot to come upstairs at all. 

“Q? Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Can I join you?” Quentin rolled his eyes; their bed was huge, big enough that Eliot didn't need permission like it was some tiny twin. 

"Last time I checked you slept here too." He said. He heard a quiet laugh as Eliot put his phone down on the bedside table, then it made sense why Eliot had asked permission because he didn't walk around to the opposite side of the mattress. Instead, he lifted the blankets and climbed in on Quentin's side, so they were right against one another. One arm slipped under and around him. 

“I'm going to miss you so much.” 

"Yeah," Quentin said. He'd hoped in vain that something would derail the trip at the last moment – a hurricane off the coast or, or, any event on a scale large enough to ground commercial air travel. Eliot was still in the clothes, sans vest and jacket, that he'd worn during the day. He would still have to shower and change so this brief glut of physical indulgence wouldn't last for long. 

"Q? Are you going to be okay?" Quentin made a noise that he hoped sounded more like agreement and less like denial. If he opened his mouth to voice a confirmation, he worried that other words would spill out and he would tell Eliot just how much he didn't want him to go. Quentin couldn't think of anything more childish than whining like a five-year-old whose parent was going away on a business trip. It wasn't like Eliot disappeared every month; he didn't deserve a guilt-trip. 

"Are you going to bring me back something nice?" Eliot laughed again. 

“What would you like?” 

“Nothing cheesy.” Quentin understood the point of tourist merchandising, but it seemed frivolous. Who cared if he visited the beach on his vacation? He certainly didn't need a t-shirt to brag about it. 

“I'm so glad you narrowed that down.” 

“I'm helpful like that.” Quentin tucked into Eliot's hold. “Will you call me when you get to California?”

“Of course I will.”

"Okay." A silence stretched between the two of them. With Eliot in the way Quentin couldn't see the clock, or reach his phone, but he was good at counting seconds. They laid there for about half an hour. 

"I have to take a shower, so I'm ready to meet Josh." 

“Go, you stink.” 

“I do not!” Eliot huffed in righteous indignation. 

“Then you don't need to shower.” Quentin reasoned. 

"Maybe not." They continued to lay together for another fifteen to twenty minutes. Quentin was almost asleep when Eliot's arm slid free. Eliot must have thought he was actually sleeping because his phone zipped to his hand. Quentin quickly shut his eyes. It wasn't the first time Quentin had seen it. The two of them had lived together for a year; they had dated for three. There were lots of little things he'd seen over the years. Most of them had occurred when Eliot was especially drunk and didn't think he was being watched. 

Quentin understood how to keep a secret, and he got that telekinesis was a huge secret to hide but the longer Eliot held out from him, the more it hurt. Eliot shifted back towards him and leaned over him to kiss his forehead. Quentin blinked up at him. 

“You have to go?” 

“Yeah, Josh will be here in a little bit. I didn't mean to wake you up.” Quentin hooked his hand up into Eliot's curls and dragged him down into a kiss. 

"Don't forget your glasses." 

"They are in my bag already." Quentin couldn't think of anything else Eliot might forget. 

Have fun, I guess." 

“I'll see you next week.”

“Call me.”

“As soon as we land, I promise.”

“I was going to say more than once.” 

“Q!”

“I know it seems excessive.” 

"I'm getting up now." In the dim half-light from the hall, Quentin could see a smirk forming on the profile of Eliot's face. He got up and disappeared into the walk-in closet. The door got pulled closed, but the light came on. Quentin listened to the rustle of fabric and swish of silk as Eliot changed. He was heading downstairs a few minutes later. 

\---------------------------

Eliot set his suitcases on the outside steps and locked the townhouse door with his powers. He grabbed a bag in each hand and walked down to the street where Josh's car was parked. The grass glittered with a thin layer of frost. His friend glared at him from the driver's seat and yawned as Eliot tossed his bags into the back. 

“This is insane; you know that right?” 

“I know.” Eliot buckled himself into the passenger seat, then leaned forward to rest his face against his knees. 

“It's five in the goddamn morning!” 

“Josh, please.” 

“You actually bought us airline seats we aren't even going to use.” 

“I get it!” If either Josh or Margo thought any of his lies came easily than they had no idea how much they tore him up and exhausted him. Watching Quentin grow progressively more depressed was wrecking him. “I'll tell him as soon as he finishes the semester. I swear.” He hadn't meant for things to reach the extremes that they had, he'd never wanted to closest friends to have to lie for him.

"El, I mean, he'll be mad, but Q cares about you." Eliot felt Josh's hand awkwardly pat his back as they stopped at a red light. Eliot sat up and rested his cheek against the cold glass of the window. Josh pushed his glasses up on his nose. His gloved fingers creaked around the leather steering wheel. 

"I think I might have reached the point where that's not enough, I dunno." Josh fiddled with the radio, flipping through stations with the hand controls on his steering wheel. He wasn't the type to give good relationship advice. Neither of them spoke until he'd parked his car in the lot for Margo's Soho apartment building. Her loft was dark and quiet. Eliot threw himself onto one of the couches and stared at the ceiling while Josh sat in one of the chairs. Lights flipped on a few moments later, and Eliot blinked against the brightness. 

“Can you two make more noise?” 

“Go back to bed, Bambi. We can portal out whenever.” There was no point until at least ten or so. All of them could get a few more hours of sleep. Josh stood, and rocked on the balls of his feet, then clapped his hands together a few times. 

"If that's the case I'm moving into one of the spare bedrooms if that's cool with you Margo." 

"Go, it's fine." Josh was humming as he disappeared. Eliot rolled onto his side, so he faced the back of the couch. He didn't feel like meeting whatever judgmental look Margo was giving him. 

“El, are you okay?” Her voice was softer than he'd expected.

“I lied to him, Margo, about when we were leaving, about the flight.”

"Yeah, you did. I don't know why it bothers you now. You've been doing it for years." Her voice had an edge of irritation that he knew too well. Eliot wanted to bristle with annoyance, but she was right, though he'd never lied like this before. It had always been by omission, or by stretching the truth. The flight was the first time he'd told Quentin he was going to do one thing while doing almost its exact opposite. His shoulders slumped a little. 

“I'll tell him as soon as the semester is over.” 

“Hallelujah! Hell finally froze over.” Eliot didn't appreciate her sarcasm. 

"Q was distraught tonight. He didn't ask me not to go, but I know he considered it." 

"He was hurt that his boyfriend is leaving him for ten days, and wouldn't let him go? Gee, I wonder why?" 

“I thought he'd be happy to have the time to work on his thesis!”

“He'll be fine, El. You'll be home next week, and the two of you will work through your issues.” 

"Hopefully." Margo's hand ruffled through his curls. 

"I'm going back to bed." 

“Yeah, thanks for letting us crash here for a few hours.”

"It's not going to become a habit," Margo told him as she walked back towards her bedroom. The lights flipped off. In the silence, the slide of the zipper on his laptop bag sounded loud. He heard the side of his flask scrape against the zipper's teeth as it flew free and came to his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Julia see each other for the first time and months, and Quentin finally breaks down and vents to someone about his fears.

Quentin ran his fingers along the brick wall of the Manhattan apartment Julia had rented for the duration of her trip. The floors were dark wood with vibrant print rugs, and the kitchen's white cabinets had recently gotten a fresh coat of paint. Brushed silver hardware matched the newly installed appliances. Julia sat on the dark leather sofa with a red throw pillow in her lap and a smile on her face. It was the first time Quentin had ever been in a rental apartment that was as nice as this one. 

"It's so much cheaper than a hotel," Julia explained as Quentin debated where to put down his things. France had done wonders for her. During Julia's last year on east coast she had seemed so harried, now she appeared relaxed and confident again. This was the Julia he'd grown up with, not the scattered manic young woman he'd known after Julia had abandoned grad school. 

He'd been scared for her when she had been at her lowest. She hadn't trusted him; she hadn't trusted anyone. When he'd asked James what had happened James had reminded him of the birthday party, he didn't remember and Julia developing an Adderall addiction that had spun out of her control. Quentin rubbed his temples and dropped onto the sofa beside her. 

There was a fuzzy four-month gap in his memory that sparked migraine headaches whenever he tried to think about it too hard. The doctor from his last stay at Midtown had tried a new medication for his depression. It had fucked him up so severely that he'd been forced to put off grad school for a year. It had been during those four months that Julia had dropped out of college; it was also when he'd met Eliot. 

Not remembering exactly how he'd met his boyfriend was maybe what hurt the most. He loved Eliot but missing those crucial early details seemed to be hurting them now. He wasn't even sure if the first kiss he remembered was their actual first kiss or not. As Eliot's job and his class schedule started to present more problems for them, those missing pieces seemed like a bigger deal than they ever had. 

"Earth to Q." Julia's smile had been replaced by a frown. Quentin finally dropped his bag onto the wide backless ottoman that sat against one wall. It had was covered in the same dark leather as the couch. "Are you okay?" 

“Yeah, ignore me. I've got a lot on my mind right now.” 

“Like what?” Quentin dug into his backpack and removed one of the bottles of wine he'd brought from the townhouse. Eliot's talent for finding great wine was showcased in their personal collection. Quentin had never had a bottle that wasn't good. Not everything matched his taste, but it had all been drinkable. “Is there a corkscrew?” 

"Yeah, somewhere. My sister and I used it the other night." Julia got up and followed him into the kitchen. She pulled open a drawer of cutlery and handed him the tool. Eliot's exceptional taste in wine had led to a particular taste in wine accessories. The bottle opener they had at home was a lever pull system with an ergonomic hand grip that would open a bottle in seconds. The thing Julia handed him had come from Wal-Mart. He had to screw it in place and pry the cork upward. Eliot might have made it look elegant, but Quentin was afraid there would be bits of cork floating in their glasses. Julia seemed mildly amused with his struggle. 

"I hope you like it." He said when he finally was able to pour. He could tell from the way her face seemed to light up that she did. Her hand hooked into the crook of his elbow, and Quentin found himself being led back to the couch. Julia put her wine down long enough to turn off the TV. 

“Tell me what's wrong.” Quentin drew his feet up to sit cross-legged on the couch and gazed down into the pale white wine he'd chosen. It was several minutes before he convinced himself that it was okay to say anything at all. 

“I feel like we're drifting apart.” 

“You and I?” Julia asked.

"No." Quentin sipped from his glass. He and Julia had drifted apart years before. He still loved her, in a strictly platonic sense, but there had been a distance between them that had never been there when they were kids. "El and I." Quentin felt his eyes burn and he rubbed them. It was the first time he'd admitted there was a problem to anyone. 

“Q, I know he loves you.” 

"But I don't understand why." The tears weren't going to stop; Quentin wasn't sure he wanted them to. He needed to vent all the negative feelings before he hurt himself or landed in a hospital again. "I don't want to lose him, Jules." The woman's arm circled him, and Quentin sniffed as she guided his cheek to her shoulder. 

“You're not going to lose him.” She assured him. He wondered how she could sound so confident.

"I feel like, like; I'm, it's. I feel stuck. I – its like I should have ended up somewhere else than where I am." Quentin wiped his hand under one eye. "I feel like everyone is lying to me." He whispered. "I don't know if – I don't think El trusts me." Julia had pulled the short ponytail loose and was sweeping her hands through his hair. 

“Have you talked to him about any of this?” 

"N-no, no, I haven't. I should have, but I haven't." Quentin let her guide him down till his cheek rested against the throw pillow in her lap. "I don't even remember meeting him!" He confessed softly. His shoulders shuddered with a quiet sob, and he curled up. 

“Oh, Q!” Julia's fingers were gentle anchors as they combed through his hair. It was nice to have someone listen. 

“I'm glad you came back for a few days.” He told her. “I think I, well- I needed this.”

“I wish you had told me the two of you were having problems.” 

“We weren't, not really.” Quentin wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He hoped he was calming down a little. “Then he decided to do this California thing.”

“I thought this was a business trip?” 

"Well, yeah, I, yeah. Eliot's trying to get certified as a sommelier." 

“That will be great for him, at least I would think so.”

“We barely have time for each other now, what happens when he's even busier?” 

“You'll have finished your masters by then, Q. Hopefully everything will balance out.” Quentin closed his eyes. He thought about the phone flying across the dresser to Eliot's hand.

“El still doesn't trust me.” He murmured. “I feel like I'm holding him back. He's so talented, Jules. Everyone loves him; he'd find a new boyfriend in no time.” 

"Blindsiding Eliot by breaking up with him isn't fair, Q." Her voice held both surprise and sternness. The way she came to Eliot's defense almost made her sound like Margo. It was such an odd tone to hear from her because she's never seemed fond of Eliot before now. "You have to talk to him, confront him about it and figure out what's wrong. If he cares about you as much as I think he does, then he'll want to fix things." 

"What happens when he won't open up to me?" Quentin asked softly. Julia's fingers stilled in his hair; then his chin got tipped so he would look at her. "You have to be happy, Q." She said. "I think you need to talk to him first, but if you can't make it work then don't stay in a relationship for the sake of anyone but yourself." 

“He's talking about taking a trip for just us when I finish my program.” A smile graced Julia's face 

"That sounds fun, Q! Maybe that is what both of you need." Quentin sat up again so he could reach for the wine glass he'd set aside. "So where is he thinking about taking you?" Julia asked as he finished the glass. 

“We haven't decided yet.” Julia's eyes practically sparkled when her elbow jabbed into his ribs. 

"You should make him take to London, and while you two are there, you just have to drag him to Cornwall for a day. They still do tours of the Plover estate don't they?" 

"Yeah!" Quentin grinned down into the empty glass. He'd needed Julia to visit. She got him. There were reasons they had stayed friends for more than half their lives. "I'd really like it if we did that." He was sold on the idea. Hopefully, Eliot would agree.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia forces a meeting with Marina, and potentially gets more than she bargains for.

Once Quentin had left for his mid-day classes Julia grabbed her leather jacket off the back of the couch and collected her phone. She had plenty of time to do everything she planned before Quentin was done around dinner. 

His confusion broke her heart. Of all of them, herself, Eliot, Eliot's friends, Quentin was the one who deserved magic in his life most. She would have started to teach him hedge magic the day he'd been expelled if she had found out. Julia hated herself for not keeping a closer eye on him, by the time the news reached her Quentin was already struggling with his depression again. The memory specialist the school had used on him had been a thousand times more competent than the one Brakebills had used on her. 

Then Eliot had shown up. Julia wasn't sure if Eliot had been dating him before Quentin had been expelled, but the concern Eliot had shown for him, combined with the growing realization that Marina was a straight up psycho had convinced Julia that Quentin might be better off. Putting her emotionally and mentally damaged best friend in the hands of someone as manipulative as Marina had made Julia's stomach turn. Eliot seemed like the safer, more reasonable option, and he'd been the only one that could get Quentin to smile. 

The months Quentin had spent at Brakebills had made him ineligible for a fall grad school enrollment. It was probably a good thing; he hadn't been ready for the pressure. He'd needed the extra year to get back on track, and Eliot had worked small miracles. Quentin had planned on getting a master in philosophy, but Julia was pretty sure it was Eliot who had coaxed him to focus on post-war literature instead. Quentin had started studying something he loved. There had been zero doubt that his thesis would somehow concentrate, at least in part, on Fillory and Further. 

Being back in New York was nice. Julia had spent months enjoying the mild Mediterranean climate of Southern France, but there was nothing like the cold crisp weather of late fall in New York City. Julia wished she could actually enjoy it, but she was doing something she had promised herself she would never do again – asking Marina Andrieski for help. 

Quentin's breakdown had convinced her that it was time to do something about Quentin's blocked memories. She had been studying with the Free Traders, and she was reasonably confident that she could master any spell that she would need to perform. The trick was knowing exactly which spells she could try without causing more damage. Brakebills had taken some of Marina's memory. There was a chance she would be sympathetic to someone who had suffered a similar fate. 

Julia ducked down an alley and made a portal that would take her from Upper Manhattan to Marina's bodega in Brooklyn. The unassuming building hadn't changed much. The cloth awnings were new but fading fast; the whole structure looked worn. These people had locked her in a freezer. She had crawled on her belly for magical scraps from these people. Her life had been changed and twisted by magic and Marina treated something beautiful like it was a drug. 

It had been liberating when she had realized that Marina wouldn't let her grow past her. She had stayed in New York long enough to see Quentin start school again; then she'd left. She'd jumped up and down the east coast as word of new safe houses reached her ears. Looking Marina in the eye again had never been the plan. 

Her fingers formed a box as she studied the wards crisscrossing the building in front of her. The difference that a few months of proper magical training made were just remarkable. Wards that had once seemed impossible to decipher would now fall apart with a few well-placed picks. She could take down every defense Marina had mustered, so she did. It wasn't the smartest strategy, but it would make them notice her. She had become something beautiful and powerful without them. 

Julia watched through the box of her fingers as her spells went to work. The wards broke apart like sheets of glass. Satisfied, Julia shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and strutted through the front door of the bodega. The clerk looked alarmed but didn't say a word to her as she thrust her hand against the door leading towards the back. A small gaggle of confused witches stared at her with eyes as big as owls. Julia crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Marina, where is she?” 

\-----------------------------

The collapse of all her wards in seconds caught Marina's attention immediately, but she took a moment to steady herself before she stormed downstairs. She shouldn't have been surprised by who she found waiting for her. 

“Well, well, Ivy League! What a surprise.” It was rare that Marina lost control of one of her flock without putting them in their proper place, but Julia Wicker had surprised her in several ways. She was almost eager to see what the little bitch had learned. “My prodigal daughter has returned, everyone! Let's give her a round of applause!” There was a smattering of nervous clapping. “Now everybody out. Go somewhere, well, not here!” The group surged to collect their things. Perhaps it was a testament to Julia that all of them seemed to give the younger woman her space as they quickly flowed around her. “Pete, Kady, you two stick around. Make sure we aren't interrupted.”

"It's great to be home, Mom. Let's killed the fatted calf and have ourselves a feast." Marina laughed. She had always liked Julia; theg girl had spunk and talent. She had too much talent. Marina waved her hand, and two of the bodega's most comfortable chairs floated closer to them. 

“You know I really think Brakebills made a mistake with you.” She said as she sat. One leg crossed the other and Marina stretched out her hands to wrap them around the joint of the higher knee. “What do you want?” 

"Brakebills makes a lot of fucking mistakes," Julia said as she sat on the edge of the other chair. Her manner was almost prim, and Marina reminded herself that this girl was Ivy League law school material. 

“Let's cut to the chase.” The banter was sweet, but she had wards to restore, and minions to round up. “What do you want, Julia.” 

"Adding my name was such a nice touch." Marina had been a witch long enough to know when she was talking to someone with considerable power. Julia had found a teacher, a good one, Brakebills trained if she guessed right. The thought of the school and the three years she had wasted there made her blood boil. 

“I'm really not in the mood for this.” She told the younger woman. 

“I want your help with a memory spell.” 

“Remind me why I would help you with any spell? You made it clear that you had outpaced anything I had to teach you.” 

“I did, and I found better teachers.” 

“Then get them to help you with whatever minuscule request you have rattling around in your brain.” 

"I need help reversing a Brakebills memory wipe." Marina almost laughed at her, but she saw the glimmer of a chance to do something else. When Julia had left her, she had taken nearly the entire coven with her. The only two who had stayed were Pete and Kady, and Kady had only stayed because Marina had leverage over her. 

The group Marina had now was a fraction of what her old one had been. She hated having rivals, especially ones that were better than her. Julia apparently hadn't realized that Brakebills didn't wipe or block long chunks of memory. The only way to reverse it was to get the specific memories the school had amputated and put them back.

"Sure, I think I can help you." Marina lied as she stood, and beckoned Julia to come upstairs with her. The seating would be more comfortable if they were going to talk for more than five minutes. 

“What? Just like that?” Julia had gotten smarter. She trusted less easily then she had when she was first learning magic. 

"I hate Brakebills," Marina said as they walked. "That school chews up good people and spits them out if they can't keep up. Displease the dean, and Henry Fogg will leave you out flat on your ass." 

“It sounds a lot like how you treat people.” 

"I learned a lesson or two from sweet Henry." Marina dropped into the most comfortable armchair. Her hands flowed through a quick spell, and a new bottle of wine flew to her hands. She pulled the cork free with a flex of fast fingers. "So tell me details, Darling! I want to know everything or I won't give you the spell." Marina saw hesitation flash across Julia's face, but she apparently felt either a time crunch or a lot of pressure to get this thing done. 

"My best friend was enrolled there for a couple of months. I'm trying to help him get that time back." Marina smiled behind the rim of her wine glass. 

"Tell me more." Pretending to help to might be the only opportunity to get Julia out of the way for good. Marina realized she might even be able to coax a talented new hedge witch into her circle. Adding one of Julia's closest friends to her coven after Julia had destroyed it would be poetic justice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strain of the California trip starts to take its toll on Eliot, and Marina comes through with spell components for Julia.

The sunset had swathed the vineyards below him in lines of green, gold, and shadow. Rolling hills of carefully uniform rows seemed to stretch out for miles, only ending when they butted up against the mountains. Eliot had spent almost a week in California so far. For the first time, he was starting to worry that he might not pass his certification when he eventually took the test. It felt like the more he learned, the less he actually knew, and California was only one of the major wine producing regions of the world. 

He wasn't sure if he was honestly overwhelmed or if doubt over his private life was bleeding through into his professional one. This was the first time where he had put himself in a position where he might fail. High school, despite its challenges, had been a breeze, college had flown by, and magic had been a part of him that was as natural as breathing. He'd been top of his year. Now the stakes were real. If his business failed, he'd be letting down not just himself but Josh and Margo too. If his relationship Quentin collapsed... well even thoughts of losing him felt catastrophic. It would break his world apart. 

Eliot walked closer to the pale marble railing that fenced the patio he stood on. The top was as wide as his forearms. He sat his glass beside him and leaned against the stone as the sun sank lower towards the edge of the mountains. The sight that spread out before him was lovely, but he'd have enjoyed it more if Quentin had come with them. They had talked daily but conversations he had set aside an hour, or even half an hour for, seemed to peter off in fifteen to twenty minutes. Eliot took his phone out and snapped a few pictures of the landscape, then sent the best one to Quentin in a text. The response wasn't immediate, but at least he got one. 

_'That's pretty.'  
'Are you having a good trip?''_

_'I miss you.'_ Eliot typed. 

_'I miss you too.'_

Not moving the trip back had been a mistake, thinking he could live and be happy with his life split in two had been a bigger one. There was no way this could work long term. Eliot wasn't sure it would last a couple of months until Quentin finished school. 

_'Have you thought about the trip I suggested?'  
'We can go wherever you want.'_ Eliot expected a text reply, so when the phone vibrated in his hand, he quickly thumbed across the screen to accept the call. 

“Hey.” Quentin's voice had an undercurrent of eagerness. “Are you sure you can free up the time?” 

“I talked to Margo and Josh. They can handle things for a few days. It can't be as long as this trip, though.” 

“I didn't think it could be. Can we go to London? I want to go to Cornwall for a day.” Eliot wracked his brain, trying to think of what might be in Cornwall that would capture Quentin's attention so completely. 

“Is that where the Plover house is?” It was a guess, but it earned a delighted laugh from Quentin. 

“They give tours, El!” 

“Then that's what we'll do.” Eliot had no quarrel with indulging Quentin's obsession with Fillory if it helped make the truth an easier thing to accept. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, I really miss you, El.” 

“I miss you too.”

“Five more days right?” 

"Yeah," Eliot confirmed. 

“I'll let you go.” The call ended before Eliot could say anything else. 

“Eliot? There you are! Have you been out here this whole time?” The sun had sunk under the mountains, staining the horizon in a blended hue of a thousand colors. The patio lights had come on behind him. Eliot snapped a few more pictures. 

“Yeah, I wanted to watch the sunset.” He wasn't the only one. Couples dotted the edge of the patio. 

"Well, you're supposed to be mingling. People want to talk to you, and they were starting to notice you had disappeared." Her hand hooked into his elbow, and she leaned against the rail beside him. "Were you on the phone with Q?" 

“Yeah.” Margo's fingers laced into his and squeezed. 

“You're thinking about going back early aren't you?” 

“Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me. You have stay a week, at least. We set all this time aside for a reason, and it's paying off.” 

“You think so?” 

“El, the deal you landed for that saki on Thursday is going to be huge for us! That alone will pay for the trip.” 

"I guess." He was rather proud of the saki deal. They had gotten three bottles to sell, and the stuff already had a huge demand. Hopefully, even with the high tag, he planned to put on them, they would sell in a month. Margo's hand squeezed his hand tighter. "You have to help Josh, and I make this work." She told him. "So let's go back inside." Eliot nodded and picked up his glass. He let Margo hang on his arm as he led her back into the party. 

\----------------------

The box from Marina had arrived via courier and now sat open on the couch beside her as Julia read through the 'spellbinder,' a ratty old Mead three-ring binder that had seen better days. Marina had bagged each ingredient individually. The spell had been copied from an actual book because typical Marina and her refusal to share had meant that the book hadn't been shared in its entirety. She and Marina had agreed that it was best for both of them that they not sit face to face again. 

Julia was starting to feel the crunch. It had taken Marina the rest of the week to prepare the spell and its ingredients for her. She had hoped to have plenty of time to master the hand motions before she performed it on Quentin, to give him time to adjust to having his memory back before Eliot came home. Now she felt rushed, and it made her nervous. The whole idea of messing with her best friend's mind made her palms sweat, but the payoff would be huge. 

The binder got placed on the circular glass table in front of her, and she started to lift each component out of the box. Some of them she was familiar with, others she wasn't. Marina had included a round pot with a fat rounded bottom and a narrow neck to burn everything. Julia set the ingredients aside and lifted it out. The base twisted off so it could be loaded, and the smoke would release in a thick curl through the round hole in the otherwise sealed top. 

The only component she needed that she didn't already have was a few strands of Quentin's hair with the root attached. She was meeting him after his evening class, so that should be easy enough to get. The week had been a long one for him. That he missed Eliot was obvious. He had insisted on spreading nights near the beginning of Eliot's trip at home, but sleeping by himself in an empty house had only lasted a night or two. He'd spent the rest of the week on the couch of her rental apartment. 

Julia sat the pot on the table and stared at it. She had to decide if she actually wanted Quentin to be there when she performed the spell or if she would insist he go home tonight so she could work uninterrupted. The worst thing that could happen was him distracting her while she cast. The spell could go haywire, it could kill them both. However, if he wasn't there she had no way of knowing if it worked, and no way of knowing if it went wrong.

Not for the first time, Julia wondered what her discipline would have been if she had gone to Brakebills. Richard seemed confident she could have fit in as a knowledge student. This wouldn't be the first time Julia had performed a spell with a psychic or mental component. Unlocking memory would be slightly different experience from absorbing someone's knowledge as she lay in a coma, but this was for Quentin. There was no length Julia wouldn't travel if it helped her best friend be happier.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margo works behind the scenes in hopes of finding a solution, and Eliot goes back to New York where he finds Julia waiting for Quentin after his classes.

The wineglass turned between her fingers and Margo watched from across their hotel room as Eliot gathered his things to go home. She had tried her best to keep him in California for the full ten days they had planned, but it had been evident before they had ever left that he wasn't going to enjoy himself. The shorter than expected conversations with Quentin hadn't helped lift his spirits the way he'd hoped. Going home was probably the best thing he could do.

“Are you sure you're all right with this?” He asked her as he zipped one of his suitcases closed. The other lay open and only half packed on the gray and white duvet that covered his bed. 

“You haven't enjoyed yourself a day we've been out here.” 

“That's not true.” 

“So I'm spouting generalities. Go home, spend the next three days with Q, and get your damn head clear -- if he even has time to spend with you.” She wasn't trying to tear Eliot down, but she was frustrated with him, and Quentin would be busy. Going home now felt like a waste. 

“I think he'll love the surprise.” Eliot murmured. 

“Sure, and then he'll feel guilty you came home early.” There were moments when Margo was convinced that Eliot had no idea how Quentin's mind worked. The guy would be elated to see him for about five whole minutes, then the anxiety would set in, and he'd question every action he and Eliot had made that had led to a particular outcome.

"I can stay if you want me to." He told her softly. 

"El, no, it's okay. Go home. I know you miss him. I wish we could have brought him." If Quentin had been at all aware of magic, she wouldn't have hesitated. Q would have loved jumping up and down the coast of California via a portal. It would have been like a magical Christmas for him. His head would have exploded from the excitement. Margo finished what remained of her wine in a long series of quick swallows. "Tell him I love him when you see him." 

"I will." Margo glanced down at the thin gold watch adorning her left wrist. If Eliot didn't leave soon, she would miss the meeting she had scheduled for lunch. Mentally she calculated Quentin's class schedule. 

“He'll be in class for most of the afternoon.” She reminded him. Eliot's shoulders drooped a fraction of an inch. He stood hovering over the empty suitcase, then dropped the armload of neatly folded shirts into the bag. 

“It'll give me plenty of time to check on the shop.”

"Matthew, Alexis and Tracy are perfectly capable of watching things. I've been checking up on them. The shop didn't disappear or catch fire while we were gone. If you are going home, then focus on your boyfriend, if you want to focus on our business stay here." 

“I want to balance both!” Now it was his turn to be irritated. 

"You can't have both until you stop lying to him," Margo told him. 

“I don't know how to tell him; I don't know how I'll tell him in a couple of months!” Margo hoped the lunch meeting she was in danger of missing would help fix that problem. 

"El, decide if you're staying or going." She said. I have a meeting I scheduled for lunch. I don't want to take off until I know your plans. She watched him continue to load the suitcase in silence; the answer lay in his silence. He wanted to go home. "I'll see you in a couple of days." She told him as she walked across the room to stand beside him. After a moment his arm circled her, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Margo leaned up to kiss his jaw. "It's going to work out." She assured him. "We'll find a way." The small purse she had been using for the duration of the trip floated to her hands. 

“Stay safe.” He whispered into her hair. 

"You too." She stepped away from him, then walked into the hall. Josh's room was beside the one she and Eliot had shared, and she tapped on his door. 

“Is El going home?” He asked as he let her in. Margo nodded. 

“Yeah, he's leaving in a couple of minutes.” 

“Are you still going to lunch with Alice?” Margo nodded. 

“She's supposed to bring me a spell book. It's her fucking fault Q got expelled. Trying to help fix it is the least she can do.” Margo opened her bag to make sure her phone and wallet were tucked inside. “I'm going to go.”

"I'll see you in a couple hours." Josh followed her back to the door and waved from the mouth of his room as she walked down the hall. The carpet absorbed the purposeful click of her heels as she walked towards the elevator. 

\------------------

Eliot's portal opened into his office at the shop, because he hadn't wanted to portal directly home on the off chance Quentin had decided not to go to class. If the trip had done nothing else, it had opened his eyes to the infeasible nature of the life he was trying to lead. Neither he nor Quentin could be happy under the circumstances. 

There was a tap on the open door of his office, and he looked up to see Matthew watching him. 

“Are you back early, or are you just checking in?” 

"I'm staying, but I won't be around much," Eliot told him. His eyes dropped to his desk and the pile of notes that had accumulated in a week. "Jesus." The backlog was both nice to see and disheartening knowing he'd have to work through. "Business has been good?" He asked. Margo had been sailing the ship as far as communicating with their staff had gone. 

"It's been decent." The other man smirked at him. "We had this couple portal in from California to see our selection. There have been lots of calls for you." 

"So I see." Eliot dropped into his desk chair and pulled out his phone. He tapped the Uber icon to arrange for a car, then picked up the pile and moved it into the pocket of his laptop bag. He had to do something to kill the afternoon while Quentin was in class. 

The driver arrived quicker than he expected, and Eliot chatted with her as she took him back to Margo's apartment in Soho. The remains of an early snow, now turned to piles of dark slush, was melting into the gutters as he was dropped off. The clouds were dense with rain. He wanted to surprise Quentin after his last class with coffee, as they had done early in their relationship. It was a practice that had fallen by the wayside as his evenings became filled with private events. 

A bottle of wine, with a glass close behind it, floated to him as he shed his coat and dropped his suitcases near the door. His laptop bag thumped against his side as he walked to the couch. For about fifteen minutes he just sat there. Rain droplets started to drum against the windows after he finally moved to open the bottle. Eliot swallowed the first few sips before he slipped down onto the floor and dug out the pile of messages. He got through about four of them before he swept the entire set into a pile with his telekinesis and rested his head back on the couch. The phone lay in his lap until he switched it off. 

The rain was hypnotizing in the otherwise silent apartment, and he let it lull him towards slumber. When it woke up again, it was dark, and his neck hurt from the odd position he'd napped in. For an instant he panicked, fearing it was later than it was, but he still had time to get to campus. He sealed the rest of the bottle, finished what remained of his glass and got up. His joints popped in protest of the odd sleeping position. Everything he would need for the rest of the evening floated to him. He shouldered on the black coat he wore most and added the new stripped scarf he'd found when Margo had dragged him shopping during their trip. The mixed strips of black, shades of gray, and mulberry had appealed to him, and he played with how it lay around his neck with his telekinesis as he built his portal to campus. 

The rain had stopped sometime in the afternoon, but droplets of water still clung to everything. It was cold, not enough to freeze, but enough to drive people towards coffee shops in droves. The place Quentin preferred near campus was packed. Thankfully the line moved with surprising quickness and Eliot was back on the street in minutes. Warmth radiated through his gloves to his palms as he walked onto campus.

Quentin tended to be a creature of habit, which meant he used the same doors and followed the same walking paths. Eliot used that information to make an educated guess of where to wait. To his surprise, he found the bench he'd hoped to use already occupied. 

"Julia?" He hadn't seen her in months, not since she'd spent an evening with Quentin to tell him she was moving out of the country. The surprise that split across her face at the sight of him was equal to his shock at seeing her. "You've been in town all week." He deduced that explained Quentin's short phone calls. 

"You came back early." The younger woman awkwardly shifted as she remained seated. 

"I didn't know you were here; I wouldn't have interrupted." Hurt that Quentin hadn't told him swirled in his belly. The idea that Quentin had felt the need to hide her presence made him feel uneasy. If Quentin somehow thought that he wasn't allowed to spend time with someone that was a huge problem. 

“I'll go.” Julia offered. She had rapidly gathered her things and stood.

“No!” Eliot held out the drink he'd brought for Quentin. “Look, Q obviously didn't want me to know you were here, so I'll go. I'll see him whenever he comes home.”

“You have to tell him, Eliot!” 

“I will!” 

“When? Tonight? This weekend?”

"As soon as he finishes the semester," Eliot promised. Julia still hadn't taken the cup. "Here." He pushed it into her hands. 

"That's not good enough! He knows you're hiding something from him. Do you have any idea how much that is tearing him up? Q thinks you don't trust him!" Eliot let his shoulders slump. 

"Just let him finish." He pleaded. "I don't want him to dump it all the way you did. He's worked so hard for his masters, and he's so close to finishing! I want him to feel like he accomplished something." 

“He needs his memory back!” 

"Well, I can't give that to him! And you can't either!" Eliot saw something in her expression harden. He wasn't sure if she was pissed or if she'd seen some unspoken challenge in his words. No one, not even Margo had realized how much Quentin getting expelled when he hadn't deserved to had tainted the last two years at Brakebills for him. "He deserved it more than any of us, Julia. Magic, I didn't want to watch him throw everything away to scramble for every spell." 

“You could have taught him!” 

"And I would have risked getting expelled myself. That would have done us both so much good." Eliot checked his watch and raked his hand back through his hair. The drizzly cold had made a mess of his curls. "I'm going to go before his class ends, and he finds us screaming at one another. Don't tell him I was here, just have fun with whatever your plans for tonight were. I'll see him later.” 

"He'd rather find you here," Julia told him. 

"No, he'll think I forced you to leave, or that I don't want him to spend time with you." Eliot was already starting to walk away. His drink was still warm in his hand, but all he could taste was bitter when he tried to swallow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions boil over when Quentin finds that Eliot has come home early.

Julia had about seven minutes to stare at the cup in her hand before it reached the top of the hour and students started to trickle out of the building. Most walked in knots of two or three, so it was easy to pick out Quentin as he came down the steps alone with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. A forlorn look was pasted across his pale face. Once he looked up and saw her, he brightened a little and waved, then tucked hair back behind his ear with gloved fingers. 

"Here." Julia offered when Quentin was close enough. She pressed the warm cup into his grasp. 

"Thanks." He sipped it and frowned at the lid. "I guess you heard me give my order when I went to the shop the other day." He took another drink. 

“Yeah, sure I uh... yeah. It's what you would normally get right?”

“Exactly what I would get. El used to do this, bring me coffee after class.” Julia tried her best to smile, but she felt like she'd ruined an intimate ritual. “Let's get food before we head back to your place.” Quentin continued. “There's a Thai place that has good carry-out.” 

"Sure." Julia fell into step with him, and they walked together. He still seemed down, and Julia wasn't sure how to get a conversation started that didn't revolve around her blurting out the truth. Quentin waited until they were stood in line to order before he checked his phone. It was clear from his face that he didn't see what he'd hoped to find. "Q? Is everything okay?" 

"El hasn't texted or tried to call at all today." Quentin shrugged and stepped to the counter to order. "Jules?" He nodded towards the menu above them. 

"Oh, um..." Julia gave her order and combed her fingers back through her hair. The digits swept the strands into a loose ponytail as she watched Quentin pay. "You could always message him." She reminded him. Maybe Eliot would fess up and tell Quentin he'd come home. The silence stretched between them, then Quentin seemed to find words all at once. 

"If he's so busy that he can't find a few minutes to call then who am I to interrupt? Obviously, he doesn't want to talk to me." Quentin's tone had shifted from lonely, to bitter, then angry in rapid succession. Their order got handed across the counter in a large brown bag that had been stapled closed. The white ticket fluttered in the breeze as they walked outside together. 

“Q, aren't you being a little bit harsh?” 

"I haven't seen my boyfriend in a week, Julia! I miss him, but apparently, he doesn't care enough to call." The misunderstanding had gone far enough. Julia wished she had insisted Eliot stay, or suggested that they both wait long enough for Quentin to get out of class. He could have decided how to spend his evening. 

"Eliot came home early, Q. He was the one that got your coffee, and he was going to meet you after class. You never told him I was in town, and he insisted that he didn't want to ruin our evening when he found me waiting." The explanation didn't seem to quell any of Quentin's anger. 

"I guess I should just head home." He held the bag out to her and continued holding it aloft until she took it. "Here, go back to the apartment and eat. I'll call you later tonight; I might come over. I don't know." 

“He was trying to surprise you, Quentin, not ruin your night.” 

"Well, he did both!" Quentin raked his hands back through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe he cut his trip short. I should, yeah its; I have to go home. I'm sorry." 

"I'm not mad!" Julia assured him. She felt horrible that this was all happening at once, but if Quentin went home, it would give her a chance she needed to perform the spell Marina had prepared for her. "Here wait," she dug into her pocket and performed a quick spell over her keys, copying the one for her rental apartment. "Take the spare rental key, in case you decide to come over later." 

"Thanks, Jules." He briefly stepped close enough to hug her. Julia took the chance to pet her hand through his hair a few times. It gave her the opportunity she had needed to collect the few strands she required for the spell. He finished working the key onto his ring; then he was walking away from her. 

\------------------------------

Quentin spent his whole subway ride to Brooklyn fuming as his thoughts raced in a circle. He wasn't sure why he was so angry. Maybe it was months of repressed worry and hurt all boiling over at once. Eliot had sold the trip as such a massive boost for his business that he simply couldn't cancel it, but apparently, it was minor enough for him to cut it short on a whim. The cost of last-minute coast-to-coast airfare must have been enormous. At least having spent the day on the plane explained why he hadn't called. 

The temperature had slowly dropped towards freezing as the evening progressed. Thin layers of frost were starting to form on car windows as Quentin walked down the street towards their townhouse. His hands were shaking, and the key scratched the lock before he finally managed to line it up correctly. Tom Waits raspy vocals were the first thing Quentin heard as stepped into the foyer. Eliot's feet were propped on the coffee table when he walked into the living room. 

"Fuck, I wasn't trying to ruin your evening," Eliot told him as Quentin tossed his things onto the floor near the foot of the couch. 

“Why did you come back early?” Quentin demanded. “I thought this trip was so important it couldn't wait, much less be cut short!”

“I missed you.” Eliot dropped his feet to the floor and reached for the whiskey glass that sat on the table. It was one of a set of eight, with a wide bottom and a narrow top. The things were designed with aromatic spirits in mind. Each of them had a little metal base, bases which sat in a pile in their freezer so they were always cold and Eliot didn't have to use ice. “I hated that you weren't out there with me; I wasn't enjoying myself.” 

"You're so full of shit! If you had wanted me to go, you would have waited to take the trip! I wanted to go, El! Instead, I had to stay here for a week while you sent me pictures and pretended to miss me!" 

"Q, that isn't how it was! I swear! I thought the timing was good; you're almost done with your masters. I figured you would want the time to work on your thesis." 

"I feel like you leave me out of everything on purpose! I feel like I'm this tiny little sliver of your life that you keep separate on purpose. Are you disappointed in me? Do you think other people will think less of you somehow? Is it your friends? I know Margo doesn't think I'm good enough for you." 

"Margo loves you, Q!" The first real hint of anger had entered Eliot's tone, of course, it had come on his best friend's behalf. 

“Then why is she always mad at me?” 

“Wait, you think...” Eliot held up his hands and shook his head. “Margo's not mad at you! She's pissed off at me! She knows your upset, I knew you were upset, but I don't know how to change things! I want you to be part of everything, but there's so much you don't remember. I can't give back any of that missing time!”

“You won't even talk about anything that happened!” Quentin cried. The corners of his eyes were starting to burn with angry tears. “I want to remember how I met you, but you won't even tell me that!” Eliot brought the whiskey glass to his lips and finished what remained. It hung between his fingers as he dropped his hand. 

“If I tell you then it's a story, one biased by my emotions and thoughts. It won't help you remember anything, Q. I wish you remembered, more than anyone else!”

“Something has to be better than nothing!” Quentin insisted. “I don't understand why you care about me! I don't know why you're so in love with me. I don't think I deserve you!” Quentin raked one hand through his hair in frustration. “Why won't you trust me, El?” Quentin knew this wasn't the time to reveal that he knew about Eliot's telekinesis. 

“I do trust you.”

"Stop lying to me!" Quentin moved towards him and yanked the glass out of Eliot's hand, then hurled it at the wall. It broke into a pile of uneven pieces. He immediately regretted that he'd done it. "You lie to me all the time," Quentin whispered. He forced his voice back up to a normal register. "It has to stop, El. Something has to change; we can't keep living like this." Anxiety was starting to build in his chest over the shattered glass. Breaking it had left Eliot with an uneven set. He had to be furious. Quentin felt his breath hitch. 

"You're right, Q. We have to fix things. Look, I'll spend the night at Margo's place, so we can both have some space. I'll tell you everything. I swear" Eliot didn't look at all mad about the glass at all, but Quentin was sure it was just a matter of time. 

"I'll go stay with Julia. It's your house; I'm sorry I broke something." 

"It's our house." Eliot's voice was finally showing hints of flint and fire and pain. "I don't want any of this if you aren't part of it, and fuck the glass. I can get new ones. I can't replace you!" Eliot's hand found his and squeezed as he moved to walk past him. "I'll see you tomorrow." He assured Quentin as he walked into the foyer to get his coat. The door closed with a louder than expected bang.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blind to the risks Julia attempts her spell, and the fallout of his argument prompts Quentin to call Margo for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the story tags. This chapter has trigger warnings attached to it.

Julia shut the apartment door and locked it, but didn't latch the matching chain on the off chance Quentin came to find her. Eliot's certainty that nothing could change about Quentin's circumstances had lit a fire in her belly. He might not be brave enough to try, but she was. She checked her phone to make sure Quentin hadn't attempted to call her, then walked farther into the unit. She put their carryout in the fridge and knelt down the front of the cabinets. The spellbinder and components waited in their box where she had hidden them under the sink. She carried the carton into the area that acted as the living room and sat cross-legged on a print rug of blue and white zigzag stripes. A low circular coffee table with two layers of clear glass sat beside her, and she used her powers to move it into a better position. 

The first part of the spell she prepared was the part that needed Quentin's hair. She had collected several long strands when he'd been adding the key to his ring. Julia stretched the individual strands out then started weaving her hands. The hair twisted together in a paper-thin braid, which she lifted off the table and wrapped around a piece of clear quartz. The idea was that the quartz would cloud and become opaque as Quentin's memory cleared. 

Once the crystal and hair had been prepared, she set it aside and twisted open the pot. There was a diagram of how the ingredients should be layered atop one another, and she started spreading each component in even thin layers. She reapplied to top, and she set the pot in her lap so the smoke would rise into her face. 

The next step involved painting white multiple purpose paint in a spell glyph across the table. Marina had included a thin green handled paint brush to make the application. Once she had completed, the design Julia flexed her fingers through a spell. Heat radiated from her hands, and she guided her palms over the painted pattern so it would dry. She stopped when she saw spots start to crack and flake. Julia lay the crystal in the center of the glyph then light a small wick and dropped it into the pot. Thirty seconds later fragrant sweet smelling smoke escaped in a thin curl. 

Julia took a breath, letting the smoke fill her lungs, then started the slow chant and hand motions of the spell. Fingers exercises that Marina had never bothered to teach her but Richard had drummed into her head helped her hands flow from one movement to the next. She felt hypnotized. The piece of quartz lifted off the table and lit the apartment in a soft white light as it started to glow. Julia closed her eyes and continued to work her fingers through the patterns of the spell. When she opened them again the quartz had begun to cloud. It was faint, but she could no longer see through the center of the crystal. 

Worry settled in her stomach. She had no idea what effect this was having on Quentin. She prayed this wasn't hurting him. The layers of ingredients were starting to burn together, and Julia coughed as the pot spit out a curl of flax colored smoke, it rapidly darkened to a honey color. Marina had mixed something into the potion ingredients, and it was toxic. 

Julia felt like her lungs were burning. Adrenaline flooded her system, and she tried to lift the pot out of her lap, but it slipped from her fingers as she started to cough again. The base popped off as it hit the floor. Smoke poured out and rolled upward. There was so much that there wasn't clean air to breathe. 

Her vision blacked. She only realized she'd fallen sideways when she felt her temple impact against the hardwood. Even that pain was a blur, and blacking out had landed her on the floor in the path of the still smoking pot. Desperate she worked a spell to throw all the windows open. Frigid freezing air flooded the apartment, and she tried to crawl towards the door. Even with clean air she still felt like she couldn't breathe. The apartment swam in her vision, and the rug scratched against her cheek as she tried to drag herself along. She could see the door, but she knew she wasn't going to make it into the hall. 

\-------------------

It took Quentin a few minutes of silently standing in their living room to process that Eliot had walked out on him. Finally, he tossed himself bonelessly onto the couch to stare at the ceiling. He could feel a migraine rapidly building behind his eyes, and he doubled over his lap. The first real fight of their three-year relationship had left him reeling. He had no idea what Eliot could be hiding from him that would affect their lives so thoroughly. 

None of it made sense. The headache seemed to amplify in strength as seconds ticked away. Quentin rolled onto his side to hide his eyes and block the light. It helped, but only marginally, then as quickly as it had set in it started to dissipate. His limbs felt like rubber bands when he slowly sat up. The medication for his headaches was upstairs. Quentin felt winded by the time he reached the bedroom. There was a moment of panic where he worried that his anxiety might have triggered a minor stroke. His fingers shook as he took the prescribed amount of painkiller and downed a full glass of water. 

The bed was all too inviting when he walked back into their room, so he curled up in the nest of silk sheets that smelled too much like Eliot's cologne. The room was dark. Eliot had never turned off the stereo, so a randomly aligned series of Tom Waits songs had continued to play. Quentin let the music lure him into a semi-slumber for about half an hour. The meds seemed to help more quickly than they usually did, and he felt reasonably confident that he hadn't had a stroke. 

As his head cleared, he realized that there was no way he could spend the night in the townhouse by himself. Going back to Julia's seemed like the only option. The tennis shoes he had never bothered to remove before collapsing in bed drummed on the stairs as he went back down to the lower level. Most of the lights were off, so his shadow stretched long in the few that were. 

The song switched to the Waits' track 'Alice' as he walked into the living room to get his coat. Quentin imagined a blond girl with long straight blond hair and glasses as the song droned on. He'd forgotten about the glass he'd flung against the wall, but seeing it again brought back everything his migraine had pushed to the back of his head. He went to his knees in front of the broken fragments and started to collect them, desperately wishing as he did that he could put the thing back together again. He hoped Eliot was alright and hadn't made an empty promise about coming home in the morning. 

Fear that he might change his mind melded with the guilt churning in his stomach. What if he'd ruined everything, or imagined that there were problems when there weren't? Quentin closed his eyes and shivered. His hands sweat as he rested them on his thighs He'd never felt more unsure about the path his life would take then he had at this moment. Maybe he could get Margo to check on Eliot, but if she was as pissed off at him as Eliot had suggested, then he doubted her willingness to help. 

Despite all the conflicting emotion he felt, he knew kneeling on the floor was not an option. His legs had already gone numb from being tucked under him. He'd just finish cleaning up the glass so El wouldn't have to and he'd be free to go to Julia's. Quentin forced his eyes open again and glanced down at the pile he'd collected, or what had been a pile. The fragments had seamlessly melded back together. The sight made Quentin fall onto his butt. He scuttled backward until his spine impacted the edge of the coffee table. Muscle tingled as he stared at the whole glass that sat on the floor across from him. 

He was starting to realize that whatever had happened to his mind probably hadn't had anything to do with an experimental medication for his depression. Something had damaged the memories of the missing months. Quentin was reasonably sure it hadn't been Eliot, or any of Eliot's friends, or Julia. They all seemed to care about him too much to have been directly responsible -- unless their actions were guided by guilt. 

Sitting on the floor wasn't helping him figure anything out, so he forced himself to his feet. The glass felt stable and smooth between his fingers as he carried it to the kitchen. As a test, he filled it with water to see if it would leak. When he'd assured himself that it was whole, he wiped it clean and returned it to the cabinet. 

His things were still where he'd tossed them, and he flexed his fingers at his phone, wondering if being able to do one thing meant he could do others. Neither his cellphone nor keys so much as twitched. Maybe he was the guy with the pathetic discipline of mending broken glassware. Discipline, the word stuck in his mind for reasons that were foreign to him. 

Worry for Eliot, and what he had to be going through emotionally wormed its way to the forefront of his conscious mind. He scooped up his phone with quick fingers and speed-dialed Margo. He knew she was still in California, but if he could at least get her to call El, he would feel better. 

"Q?" Margo almost sounded annoyed. It seemed like she was at a party. New guilt built on top of the old. Despite Eliot having come home early Margo and Josh had stayed to finish their trip. 

“I, uh...” There was no way he could broach everything that seemed to be happening to him in a phone call. “El, can you call him? Check on him for me.” The volume of his words dropped the farther he got into the sentence. 

"What's wrong?" Quentin hated that cold as ice tone she had a habit of adopting. She was fiercely protective of all things Eliot. If she hadn't been angry at him before, she surely would be when she found out that he and Eliot had fought. 

"I need you to call him for me." Quentin repeated. The sounds of whatever gathering she was attending had dropped away. "We fought, Margo. Please, please check on him, I'm sorry. I know you're still in California." 

“How bad of a fight?” Quentin blinked away tears. 

“He left. I think he went to your place.” A sigh cut across their connection. 

“I knew this would happen.” She muttered. “Yeah, Sweetheart, I'll check on him.” Quentin let a relieved breath explode from his lungs. 

"Thank you." He responded. Relief swelled in his chest, and he felt a little better. "I'm sorry, I am so sorry.” He repeated.

“For what? Q, are you okay?” 

"For interrupting your trip, for wasting your time. D - don't worry about me." Quentin wiped his eyes and tried to hold the phone, so she wouldn't hear him sniff. 

"Bullshit." Margo sounded angry for about a second; then her tone turned soothing. "Quentin I love you, so does Josh, and we all know how El feels. The first thing he's going to ask me when he finds out I talked to you is if you're okay." The confirmation that Margo had never been mad at him was a weight off his soul. 

“I'll feel better knowing you'll check on him.” 

"I'll make sure he's home by morning," Margo promised. "Take care of yourself. Alright?" 

"Yes, ma'am." Quentin agreed. 

“Brat. I'll talk to you later.” Quentin let her cut the call so she could call Eliot and started to gather his things to go back to Julia's.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margo brings Eliot a gift from Alice, and the results of Julia's spell become clear. Quentin has to deal with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the story tags, there are trigger warnings for this chapter.

Margo shoved her phone into her small purse and walked back into the party she'd been enjoying until five minutes before. A simple call to chew Eliot out wasn't going to suffice. Josh had found a booth near the back, and a pair of attractive models to fawn over him. He looked like he was having the night of his life.

“Margo?” He asked as he sat up straighter. All three of them were high on something, and Margo was a little reluctant to leave him as the only representative of their business. “What's wrong? I saw you take off.” 

“I have to go back to New York for a couple of hours.”

“Why? 

“Why do you think?” Margo spat. The two women looked uncomfortable. Margo couldn't blame them, anyone in the blast radius when her temper boiled over tended to get burned. 

“El and Q?” Margo crossed her arms over her chest.

"They fought! I told him! I told him going back early wouldn't go over well!" 

"What good is going back going to do? El dug his hole, let him figure it out. You can't bend backward every time he begs for your help." 

“It wasn't Eliot that called, it was Q. He just wants me to check on him.” Josh pulled off his glasses and flexed his fingers to clear the lenses.

“So what are you going to do?” He asked as he slipped them back onto his face. 

"Take the book Alice brought me and beat Eliot half to death with it." Josh's arm snaked around the shoulder of the blond on his right. She giggled. Margo rolled her eyes. 

“It's a thick enough book to hurt.” The blond giggled again, and Josh grinned at her. “How long are you going to be gone?”

"I'm only going to go back long enough to take him the book," Margo assured him. "Try not to get too wasted." 

“I'll present myself as a consummate professional.” Margo rolled her eyes, at least one of them was enjoying their trip. She started to weave through the thick of the gathering as she made her way towards the entrance where she could make a portal to her hotel room. The lunch meeting with Alice had gone great. The blond had presented her with a book courtesy of Penny, who had discovered some massive inter-dimensional library in the Neitherlands. Margo had only a vague understanding of what the Neitherlands was, but the library was apparently the place for finding every manner of obscure knowledge.

The book was where she'd left it on her bed. She would have preferred to have more time to translate some of the more advanced spells. Thankfully Alice had already done a lot of the legwork. The book was tagged with several thin markers, each one identifying a spell she thought Eliot would be able to cast without needing obscure ingredients or too much energy. She'd included a small journal of notes as well. Margo collected both the book and the journal and made a portal from her room to her apartment. Eliot was stretched out on her couch. His bottomless flask was pressed lethargically against his chest, and he rolled away from her without meeting her eyes. 

“Just leave me alone. I don't want to hear it.” Margo walked to her coffee table, positioned the book over the wood so it wouldn't hit Eliot's phone and dropped it. It impacted hard enough to puff up a small cloud of dust. The noise it made was unexpected and loud enough to make Eliot jump and tense. 

"Are you trying to ruin your life?" She cried. "Fuck, sit up and talk to me." Eliot obediently swung his body into a sitting position with his legs spread. His elbows rested on his knees, and he hid his face against his hands, then curved both hands back through his hair. His eyes were red when he looked at her. 

“Did Q call you? Is he okay?”

"Of course he called me. He's wrecked! I promised him I would make sure you came home in the morning." Eliot nodded and rubbed the ball of his hand against his eye. "What's the book?" 

“Don't change the subject. What did you two fight about?” 

“Julia's in town, and he hadn't told me, so I didn't know. I wouldn't have come back.” 

“So you fought over him spending time with other people? That's not something you get to control, Eliot!” Margo's voice rose in shrillness and disbelief. 

"No! I tried to let them have their evening! He was just furious I came back early. He said I oversold the importance of the trip since I cut it short. Q told me to stop lying to him. I don't know how to fix this, Bambi. I don't know how to explain everything that happened to him." 

“You're going to use a memory spell.” Margo leaned down to pat the book she'd slammed onto her table. A second lighter puff of dust lifted off the cover. 

“Where did you get that thing?” She could see that it had at least caught Eliot's interest. 

“Penny and Alice found it, from some inter-dimensional traveler friendly library.”

"Why would I want help from either of them?" Margo understood his bitterness. If the two of them had just told the truth, Quentin might not have been expelled. 

“Because everyone has amends to make where Q is concerned. I don't think you can give him back his memories, but you can share some of yours. Like how Harry saw Dumbledore and Snape's memories using a pensieve. You can show him how he met you, and the private conversations the two of you had about the Beast before he was expelled.”

“Margo...” 

"This is your only option, Eliot. I won't help you anymore. I'm done running interference. No more hand holding." She watched him lean towards the table to flip open the spell book. "Alice left notes with me when I met her for lunch." Margo dropped the journal beside the larger tome. She didn't want to comfort him, but she walked around the table anyway. Eliot rested his cheek against her thigh when she got close enough, and she reached down to ruffle the disheveled curls of his hair. "I want both of you to be happy." Eliot's phone vibrated before she could continue. They could both see Quentin's number roll across the screen. Margo reached for it. Eliot pressed his finger to his lips as he took it from her. The call ended before he could answer, but a second call flashed to life before Eliot could dial. 

\----------------------------

It was awkward walking through the halls of an unfamiliar apartment building without Julia leading the way. The key Julia had given him was a generic nickel silver key he'd owned a dozen of in his lifetime. It didn't have an apartment number listed, so Quentin hoped he picked the right door before he tried to use it. Hopefully, Julia would answer quickly, and he wouldn't need it at all. Quentin counted doors as he walked down the hall, just like he'd done each visit, and knocked, and waited. 

“Jules?” He called as loudly as he dared. Not everyone on the floor rented their unit the way this owner did. It was late and getting the cops called would be the worst way to end an already rotten night. “Julia it's me!” The weirdness of entering someone's home wasn't lost on him as he found the key and fit it into the lock. The knob turned with the key and a blast of freezing air flooded into the hall. A noxious smell, like bad pot, wafted to his nose. “Julia?” The lights in the hallway that led past the bathroom and laundry room were on, as were the living room lights, but Quentin couldn't force himself to walk past the threshold. 

For nearly a full minute he couldn't process what he was seeing. His best friend's body lay near the end of the hall, and she wasn't moving. Finally, his overwhelmed brain forced motion back into his limbs, and he darted down the short entrance hall to drop beside her. Once he was that close, it was painfully apparent that she had died. Her face rested on the line between the rug and the hardwood. Quentin knew he shouldn't touch her, but his fingers reached for the closest pulse point anyway. 

His first thought was that Julia had caught someone in the middle of a home invasion. It would explain why the windows were open. His eyes tracked to the table and the painted glyph, then down to the broken pot and the singed rug. Was everyone he knew a goddamn magician? 

His eyes darted back to Julia and tears pooled in his eyes. He warned her. He'd told her this would get her killed, but he couldn't remember what he'd tried to say to her, or what his warning had been. His full memory was frustratingly out of reach. Quentin lurched to his feet and stumbled back into the building's hallway. He dug into the pocket of his coat in search of his phone and dialed 911. The wall impacted with his back and he slid to the floor. The words he said to the dispatcher didn't register in his mind enough to be committed to memory. Shock was starting to set in. 

A neighbor must have heard him because a door opened beside him, and someone was walking into the mouth of the apartment to see Julia for themselves. They came back out with a hand over their mouth and a haunted look on their face. It was obvious they had never seen a corpse before. It was the second time he'd found a dead body. How had he forgotten about the Yale alumni? 

When the guy demanded an explanation Quentin told them the truth -- that Julia was renting the apartment, and had met him after class, but they had parted, and he'd found her when he'd gotten there a few minutes before. Another door opened on the opposite side of the hallway. He repeated the story. Quentin couldn't stop himself from trembling. What if they assumed he was responsible for this? 

Vaguely he registered more doors opening and the crowd of two growing to four or five, then the elevator doors opened, and emergency medical personnel and police poured out. The residents retreated to their apartments, and Quentin found himself talking to the officer that knelt in front of him. He repeated the story he'd told the residents, but with more details, about his classes and where they had gone to pick up food, and their plan to meet after he'd gone home for a while. Quentin gave the man his address and contact information and asked if he had to stay or go to the station. All he wanted to do was call Eliot, and beg him to pick him up. He wanted to be held, and it had to be Eliot who did it. 

The paramedics must have realized that he was in shock because somehow he ended up in the building's lobby with a blanket around his shoulders. Somebody knelt in front of him. Quentin leaned into the big hand and long fingers that cupped his face. 

“Q?”

“El, how did you...” 

"You called me and told me about Julia." Quentin shook his head and fumbled for his phone. He'd made a series of calls he didn't remember – to Eliot, and James, and Julia's sister. 

“I don't remember.” Eliot took the phone out of his hand and slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat. 

"Don't worry about it, Love. We're going to go home as soon as I make sure it's alright for you to leave." Eliot stood, and Quentin grabbed his hand. Eliot squeezed the digits then gently separated their fingers. 

“El, don't. Please don't. Please.”

"I'll only be gone a few minutes, Q. I promise. Just stay here until I get back okay?" The blanket had fallen loose, and Eliot took enough seconds to fix it. Quentin wanted to trail after him but forced himself to sit still. Seconds ticked into minutes, then after an eternity, Eliot was dropping to one knee in front of him again. "They said we could go whenever we want. The police will call if they need more details from you." Eliot rose to stand in a long fluid motion and offered a hand to him. Quentin latched onto it and let Eliot pull him up. He slipped his hands under Eliot's coat, wrapped both arms around the man's waist and buried his face against Eliot's vest and shirt. 

The shirt of faint blue silk was soft. Quentin sighed in relief when Eliot hugged him back. He wanted to cry, to break, but not in the middle of the lobby of an unfamiliar apartment building. It took a couple of minutes to raise his head again. Eliot's face was lined with worry and sympathy. His thumb gently brushed along the line of his chin. 

“Are you sure we can leave?”

"Yeah, I called an Uber after I talked to the police. It should be outside by now." Quentin shifted, so he still had one arm around Eliot's waist, which proved problematic since Eliot had a full-length coat. Reluctantly he let Eliot go long enough for the garment to fall like it was supposed to. Eliot's arm circled him, and they walked outside. Quentin already felt cold, and stepping out into freezing temperatures left him trembling. Thankfully there was a car waiting, and it was warm. Eliot gave their driver directions as they settled in the back seat together. 

Passing city lights lured Quentin towards a drowsy false calm. He laced his fingers with Eliot's again, and he rested his cheek against Eliot's shoulder. Cashmere caressed his cheek. A shuddering sigh escaped his lungs. The car eventually lurched to a final stop, and Eliot fiddled with his phone as he tipped the driver and rated the ride. The little gate swung closed behind them as the walked up to their door. Quentin's fingers left trails in the frost on the rail. He'd forgotten to turn off the stereo before he'd left, but whatever artist the playlist had cycled to was one he couldn't identify. 

The world felt like it was narrowing, and Quentin struggled with the buttons of his coat until he was almost in tears. He was vaguely aware of Eliot hanging his coat; then nimble, quick fingers made fast work of the buttons. Eliot guided the garment down his arms, hung it, then caught his hand and pulled him into the living room. They collapsed in one of the armchairs together. 

"I shouldn't have left." Eliot murmured as Quentin tried to make himself as small as possible in the man's lap. 

“Then somebody else would have found her.” Quentin blinked away tears. “Thank you for coming to get me.” Eliot's fingers swept his hair back so he could kiss his temple. 

“Stop trying to hold everything in.” Quentin shuddered and sniffled. Eliot's arms tightened around him. “I've got you, baby. I love you so much.” Those words, combined with the quiet safety of their house were enough to push Quentin over the edge.


	12. Chapter 11

When Quentin woke in the morning, his head was clearer, and he realized that they had spent probably the most uncomfortable night of their lives in the chair together. He didn't remember falling asleep, but Eliot apparently hadn't dared to move him much more than needed. The taller man's cheek was pillowed against the leather.

“El?” Eliot startled awake; amber eyes blinked at him before he whined in discomfort. “Sorry, El.” 

"Don't be. I let you stay there. Oh, gods, everything hurts. How are you? Better than last night?" 

"Yeah, better, a lot." Quentin leaned to kiss his cheek, then wiggled out of both the tangled embrace and the chair. Joints popped as he stretched. Eliot had managed to get his shoes off somehow, and he padded in his socks across the hardwood, into the foyer, to get his phone from the pocket of Eliot's coat. There were over a dozen missed calls. His mother was probably frantic that he hadn't answered, so he called her first. 

“Quentin? Where have you been?” Relief was heavy in her tone. “Julia's parents called this morning.” 

"I'm at home; El's here. He must have turned the volume off so I could get a couple of hours of sleep." 

“Oh good, I thought he was still in California.”

"He had come back early to surprise me." In hindsight, the gesture was grand in its own way, and he'd acted like an ungrateful bastard. Quentin knew he needed to apologize. 

"That's nice of him! I just wanted to check on you. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me, okay?" 

"Thanks, Mom." Quentin let her go; thankfully she wasn't one to mince words. She knew he was okay, and probably wouldn't call again. Quentin glanced back into the living room, Eliot was still in the chair, but the ottoman had been dragged close so he could stretch out more. Quentin left him to relax and walked into the kitchen, where his eyes tracked to the glassware cabinet and the whiskey glass he'd repaired. So many questions floated through his mind. He'd hoped to get answers from Julia, but that avenue was gone for good. 

Thinking about her brought fresh grief, which warred with guilt in his chest. If she hadn't come to visit him, she would probably still be alive. The thought startled him; he couldn't think like that. If he convinced himself that she had died because of him, that would lead him to places he couldn't go. One hand opened the refrigerator as he thumbed through his contact list. Once he found his therapist's number, he dialed it and left a message about needing to schedule a session. 

As Quentin sipped the orange juice he'd poured his thoughts went back to the glass he'd repaired. Quickly he walked to the cabinet to take it off the shelf. He wrapped it in a dishtowel and hid it behind bags of chips in the pantry. Trying to limit the number of battles he had to fight seemed like a good idea. He needed Eliot to help him through the funeral. The problems they had could wait to be solved until after that was over. His phone rang again, and he answered James' call. 

"Q? Hey, I got the voice-mail you left last night. Are you alright?" 

"I'm not great, but I'm better. I... last night... I don't." Quentin took a swallow of juice and used it to clear his mind enough to speak. "I don't remember calling you." He confessed. "I was s-so out of it, I don't remember calling you." 

"I'm going to call Julia's parents to see if there's anything I can do. I'll probably offer to be a pallbearer if they need people. Would you like me to make the offer for both of us?" Quentin hadn't stopped to think about the actual funeral yet, and it made his knees feel weak. He sank down to the floor with his back against the cabinets. 

"Yeah, if they need someone else. I'll do it." He'd have done almost anything for Julia at one point; then something had happened to distance them from each other. Maybe James could fill in a gap or two. "Are you busy this week? Maybe we can get together one evening before the funeral." 

"I'd like that; once the funeral is scheduled, we can decide when would be best. Look I have to go. I just wanted to check on you." A weak smile tugged at the corners of Quentin's mouth. He knew the majority of concern and sympathy should go to Julia's family, but it was nice to have a little sentiment directed his way. 

"Thanks, James. Bye." The called ended, and Quentin rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye. He hadn't eaten the night before, and it was catching up with him now. 

"Q?" Eliot came in from the dining room with a bottle of vodka between his fingers. He set it on the counter then sank down beside him. Eliot stretched one leg out in front of him and rested his elbow on the one that remained drawn towards his chest. "So why are we sitting on the floor?" Quentin scooted closer to him, and Eliot's arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

“It seemed like a good place to sit.”

“Yeah?” Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window at an angle. Lopsided rectangles of light stretched across the sink and the curve of the counter then onto the floor.

“You have to go back to work don't you?” Quentin slipped his arm around Eliot's narrow waist and leaned into the embrace. 

"l hadn't planned to go back until Margo and Josh return from California. I have some calls to make, but I have everything I need in my bag. What are you going to do about class?" Quentin closed his eyes. He needed to go to class early in the week, so he could skip any that would conflict with the funeral. 

“I have to go, but I'm skipping any that would make me miss the funeral.” Eliot's cheek rested against his hair. 

“Let me know when you get the details, so I'm free too.” 

“You don't have to go the services. I know you weren't very fond of Ju- of her.” 

"She was your friend, Quentin. Your best friend. I want to go to support you. Why didn't you tell me she was visiting? I thought something was wrong. You were so upset when I left. You didn't seem like you wanted to talk to me when I called." 

"So you came home early because you were worried about me?" I'm sorry we fought." Quentin rubbed his eyes to try and stop tears from building. 

 

"No, Q, Darling, you're right. I've hidden things. We had that fight because I kept things from you. I have to make it up to you. I'll tell you everything. Let's just get past the funeral first, okay?" Quentin nodded. He felt both relieved and anxious. The answers he wanted almost seemed within reach, but he wasn't sure he'd like what Eliot had to tell him. 

“Come on, up off the floor.” Eliot stood first, then helped him up. “Are you hungry?” 

"Yes." Quentin said. He brought his glass back to his lips and sipped it, then reached for the bottle Eliot had brought with him. He added two liberal finger's worth of vodka and topped off his juice. 

“Are you drinking on an empty stomach?” 

“Yeah.” Quentin let his shoulders slump a little, and took another swallow. 

“I'll make breakfast.” 

"Cereal is fine." Quentin opened the pantry and pulled down a box of sugar-coated flakes. Cereal sounded great, now that he thought about it. "Hand me a bowl." A snort of laughter escaped Eliot's throat, but he got down a pair of bowls and two spoons. Quentin managed to smile a little. This almost felt normal. 

He dumped equal piles of flakes into the bowls and passed one to Eliot, then carried his portion into the dining room to sit down. He liked them dry; he'd eaten them dry since he'd been a kid. Eliot took long enough to drop a bagel into the toaster and add milk to his cereal before following him. He got up again when the toaster buzzed and returned with the bagel cut into fourths and spread with a cinnamon brown sugar butter. Quentin reached for one of the quarters. A pleased little sigh escaped his throat. 

“I should try to work on my thesis a bit before class.”

“I can make my calls in the backroom, or upstairs in my office. Wherever I'll bother you least.” 

"Stay down here with me." Eliot nodded. They finished eating in silence, then Eliot collected the dishes. Quentin walked into the living room to organize his books. He watched from the floor in front of the couch as Eliot fit his Bluetooth into his ear and dug a pile of post-its from his bag. "Jesus, El." The other man shrugged. 

“The trip was good for us.” He cocked his head down the hall that led towards the back of the house, and the room where they had set up their pool table. “Yell if you need me.” He reached down into the chair and pulled up the remote for the stereo. “Find something jaunty.”

“Jaunty?”

"Jaunty, peppy, uplifting" Eliot called back to him as he disappeared down the hall. Quentin shook his head, then plugged the audio cord into the headphone jack of his phone and opened the music app. He typed in 'jaunty playlist'. The search netted two choices and picked the one that was longer. The list turned out to be a mixed bag of alternative musicians, some were good, others not so much, but if nothing else it was distracting. Distracting was what he needed.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot spends the morning talking to clients, in the evening the pair spends a quiet evening together and decide what to send Julia's parents.

"In my opinion, a structured red will go better with the shimofuri, either a Bordeaux Grand Cru or a Brunello di Montalcino." Eliot listened to the heavily accented English on the other end of his Bluetooth as he circled the pool table. 

"I can't sit down for another tasting; I came back to New York a couple of days early. What would I suggest for the shouga-yake? When I had the pork the other night, I thought it would pair well with a light rose wine." The conversation continued as he lined up a shot and watched the solid red seven sail into the corner pocket. One of his remaining whiskey tumblers sat on the edge of the mahogany table. Eliot brought it to his mouth. 

“We could drag this conversation out another hour if you want to start talking about pairings for lobster and awabi.” Eliot dragged his fingers across the black felt covering the table.

"Hey, El I need to leave for class." Eliot glanced towards the hall, where Quentin hovered. He waved the smaller man closer and opened his arm so Q could lean into him. 

"I need to mute our call for a couple of minutes if you'll excuse me." Eliot rested his chin against Quentin's hair as he waited for permission, then pressed the button on his earpiece. "Are you going to be alright? No one is forcing you to go to class." Quentin's arms wrapped around his waist and he leaned up to kiss him. Eliot's hand pet through the soft locks of his hair. 

“I can't miss all my classes this week.” 

“Sure you can. I'm worried about you Q. Call me if you need me. Okay?” 

“I'm glad you came home early. I know I was upset about it last night.” Eliot ducked his head to rest his forehead against Quentin's.

"We were overdue for this fight." He admitted. "I love you. Be safe." Quentin tilted his head to kiss him again. 

“I'll let you get back to your call.”

"I'll meet you after class tonight, if you want me to," Eliot told him as Quentin walked back towards the hall. 

"I'll text you, then we can decide." Eliot waved to him, then reached for his earpiece. 

"I'm back, my sincerest apologies for the interruption. You had asked about pairing the awabi, hadn't you? I have a mineral white Austrian Riesling at my shop. I'll have my clerk send you a bottle." He paused to listen. "A long as you aren't serving the lobster raw I'd pair it with a new world Chardonnay.... Of course, I can send both! I'd be delighted. I'll call you again once I have the shipping information." 

Eliot murmured what he hoped was the appropriate Japanese phrase for ending a business call and dropped onto the nearby sofa. His whiskey glass floated to his hand. He felt exhausted both emotionally and physically. Seeing Quentin as wrecked as he'd been when he'd found him the night before would haunt him for a long time. He wished he had some idea of what Julia had done to get herself killed. 

With a groan, he thumped his head back against the back of the sofa. Sleeping in the chair had been a miserable choice, but once Quentin had cried himself to exhaustion the risk of waking him had been inconsiderable. His pile of notes floated to him, and he picked one at random for his next call. When he'd finished that one he downed his whiskey and headed upstairs to his office. His notes and laptop bag were left on the desk before he headed to his room to shower. 

\-------------------------

Meeting Eliot after his last class was more of a gut punch than Quentin had expected. He'd slipped through the day trying not to think, but having someone meet him, as Julia had the night before, made thinking unavoidable. This was the last place he'd seen her alive. It was the last time she had smiled at him. He and Eliot were going to have to find a different Thai restaurant, at least until he was more able to cope with her loss. 

He'd gotten a call from Julia's sister earlier in the day, to thank him for alerting Julia's about her death so quickly. When he'd asked if there had been an autopsy done she had told him that the coroners were ruling the death either an overdose or suicide. They were still waiting on the full toxicology report, but they believed she had intentionally burned something poisonous, and inhaling the fumes had killed her. Neither cause of death felt right to Quentin. Julia had seemed clean when as he'd spent the week with her, and she wasn't the type to kill herself. 

Her parents didn't seem to want to dwell on the possibility that Jules might have died from foul play. She had been in and out of rehab more than once before moving to France. For the two of them, this was the final circle of her downward spiral, and they had scheduled the funeral quickly. To Quentin, it felt like they wanted their daughter's death to have as little impact on their lives as it could. It was disheartening. Thankfully they had been open to both him and James being part of the service. 

The weather had warmed again as he and Eliot walked towards the subway. Water that would have been snow a couple of days before pelted down as rain now. It fell in an indiscriminate sheet through columns of yellow street light. Puddles formed in the cracks of the sidewalk. The rain beat off the umbrella Eliot had brought with him. Quentin could tell that Eliot was about as exhausted as he was – probably more so considering he'd been in California for a week. 

“Should I send anything to her parents?” Eliot asked as they waited for their train. 

“You mean like flowers?”

“I was thinking something a little more up my alley. Are they wine drinkers?” 

"They were when I was younger. A couple of good bottles of wine would probably be a welcome change from flowers and condolences. I talked to Jules' sister this morning. Her parents would like me to be a pallbearer." Quentin tucked himself under Eliot's arm as they walked through the automatic door of the subway car. They found one open seat, which Quentin took. Eliot grabbed an overhead rail to steady himself as the car lurched forward. They didn't talk again until Quentin gave up his seat three stops later and moved to stand with him. Eliot's big hand spread across his lower back as they leaned against one another. 

"It was nice they invited you to participate," Eliot said. Quentin hummed in agreement. Eliot's curls were loose from the rain. Quentin reached up to tuck one behind his boyfriend's ear. 

"I'm looking forward to seeing James again. We talked about getting together one night this week. If you don't have to work, I'd love it if you joined us." 

“He's welcome anytime. I'll cook for the two of you if you would like; I could even cook if we went to his place one evening.” 

"Now that we know when the funeral is, dinner will be easier to schedule." The train started to slow, and Quentin checked to see if it was their stop. "El." He cocked his head towards the door, and they moved as the crowd did. The platform was less crowded than the car had been. Eliot shook out their umbrella once they were past the gates and on the escalator. They walked the rest of the way home in almost silence. Cars splashed through puddles in the street. 

“Are you hungry?” Eliot asked as they took their coats off in the foyer.

"Not really." Quentin dropped his bag and yanked his sweater up. To his chagrin, it got caught as he tried to pull it over his head. Eliot had a fond smirk crisscrossing his face once it finally rolled down his forearms; Quentin blushed and tossed the shirt over the rail of the stairs so he'd remember to take it to the laundry later. 

"If you change your mind let me know, we can order something, or I can cook." Quentin could see the shadows starting to gather under his eyes. The idea of asking Eliot to cook when he was exhausted made him feel guilty. He watched Eliot walk to the bar in their living room, and grab a bottle. He was used to Eliot drinking, but normally it was a bottle of wine he opened and not shot after shot of liquor. Eliot grabbed the leather strap on the side of the ottoman and dragged it close enough to the couch to prop his feet on it. He tossed Quentin the TV remote. "We can watch whatever you want." Quentin got a can of coke from the mini-fridge and added a shot of Jack to the tumbler. 

“We should probably order a pizza if we're both going to drink.” He said to Eliot as he curled up against him. His boyfriend's lips pressed to his temple. 

"Pizza sounds good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wine and food pairings all came from a website. If I made errors please excuse me, I'm not really a wine drinker, but I tried to do some research for this chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the funeral Quentin and Eliot have dinner with James, but a surprise awaits them when they get home in the middle of the night.

The rest of the week raced towards its conclusion. Quentin felt like he blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, it was the day before the funeral. He'd skipped his evening classes so he was free to spend that time with James and he leaned into James' car to grab the paper sack of groceries from the floorboard. The bag rustled as he stood straight. Near the end of the vehicle, both Eliot and James waited for him. The car alarm being set echoed through the parking garage and Quentin walked to join them. 

“I can carry that if you want.” Eliot offered as the two of them fell in step with one another a couple of paces behind James. They had decided on dinner at his apartment, then he and Eliot would go home for the night and meet again in the morning for the funeral. The three of them talked through the plan during the grocery run that James' car would make getting from the church to the cemetery easier, then James could drop the two of them at home when things had finished.

“I don't mind cooking, Eliot,” James told them as they shared the elevator to his floor. Eliot waved him off. 

“Naw, I got it. The point is for you two to catch up.” They walked down the hall and James unlocked the door. 

“Well the kitchen's all yours, I guess. If you can't find anything just yell.” Eliot took the bag from Quentin and leaned to kiss him before disappearing in the direction James had indicated.

“Have you ever eaten anything he's cooked?” Quentin asked as he and James dropped into chairs. 

“Not yet.”

“You'll love it,” Quentin assured him. 

"Hey Q, if you want to open this I brought a second bottle." Eliot had entered the kitchen long enough put the bag down, and reappeared with a bottle of red wine. Quentin chuckled. James got up to take the bottle and the corkscrew. "Glasses, I'll be right back." Eliot disappeared and returned with glasses. James had opened the bottle and poured for all three of them. Quentin and James could hear cookware rattling as Eliot took his drink back to the kitchen. 

"He's got an excellent taste in wine," James admitted as he dropped back into the chair. 

"El's training to be a sommelier," Quentin explained as he brought his glass to his lips. "Whatever he's making should be a perfect compliment to this particular vintage. 

“So how are your classes? Are you ready to graduate yet?” 

"Less than half a semester. I have to finish my thesis, and my finals, then I'll be done. I can't wait." Quentin sipped his wine and sighed. "It'll be nice to have some more free time. I miss El; we've both been so busy." He felt like Eliot was spoiling him, he'd been attentive and hyper-aware of his mood swings – even after he'd gone back to work. There hadn't been a mention of their fight since the night it had happened, but the words had still been said, and they had lingered. Eliot was on edge, and it was slowly getting worse. There were moments that Quentin swore he was terrified. 

"How are you handling everything else? I can't imagine finding her as you did." Quentin stared at his glass. 

"Its woken me up a couple of times," Quentin confessed. "We were so close as kids, even through college, then it feels like things changed overnight." 

"It kinda did," James told him. "You went for that Yale interview. I guess finding that guy like the two of you did fucked you both up." 

"I blocked it," Quentin told him. "I didn't remember finding him until I found her." Maybe that had triggered part of the depressive spin that he'd lost part of his life to. "Most of that four months is gone." He admitted quietly. 

“Jesus, Quentin!” 

“What happened to Julia after we found that guy?” 

"She got distant, started slicing open her arm, developed an Adderall addiction, then broke up with me. She did a complete 180 in a couple of weeks. I thought you might snap her out of it, but you were nowhere to be found. You finally called me back around her birthday and came to the party. Afterward, things got worse. She started getting these crazy star tattoos up her arms." Quentin raked his fingers back through his hair. Where had he been during that time? He had the vaguest memory of that party, hadn't Eliot gone with him? Margo too, now that he tried to think about it. He could feel a headache building, and he shook his head. 

“I'll ask El, I guess.” 

“Q? Are you okay?” 

"I get headaches. It's not a big deal. Forget I asked. You know Jules seemed happy when I saw her last week, settled... not crazy. I – I don't think she hurt herself deliberately, James." 

“Did you try to tell anyone that?” 

"Who would believe me? There isn't evidence to support my theory. Maybe she was trying to get high. I don't know." Quentin finished his glass of wine. "There are moments when I think that if she hadn't come to see me, she would still be alive." 

“Q, you can't think like that.” James reached to squeeze his knee.

"I know. I've already talked to my therapist about what happened. Both she and El have been supportive." 

"That's great!" The squeeze was followed by a light punch. "You know, I would never have guessed it would be a guy that balanced you out." Quentin laughed, he'd never considered it either. 

"El's amazing." Quentin reached for the bottle to refill his glass and relaxed back in the chair. It was obvious that James didn't know much more than he'd already said, and Quentin didn't want to push his luck and risk a full-on migraine the night before his best friend's funeral. "What about you? Are you seeing anyone?" 

“Yeah, she has to work in the morning, or you would have gotten to meet her.”

“How's your new job?” The two of them chatted until Eliot told them he'd finished in the kitchen. He pulled the cork on the second bottle of wine, which he'd chilled as he prepped, and the three of them sat down to eat.

\---------------------------

Eliot leaned against the rail on the patio of James' apartment and flicked ashes off the end of his cigarette. It was nearing midnight, and the week of minimal sleep was starting to catch up with him. It wasn't the funeral that was causing his insomnia, Quentin seemed to be handling the pain somewhat well. What scared him was the confrontation that would follow the funeral. He'd promised to tell Quentin everything, but the truth felt enormous. How was he supposed to explain everything he'd kept secret for years? 

The patio door opened behind him. Eliot stubbed his cigarette in the little glass tray he'd conjured. He flicked the butt towards the street. Quentin's arms wrapped around his waist as he reached for his glass. A light pear dessert wine raced down his throat. 

"We can go home whenever you want," Quentin told him. 

"I wasn't trying to rush the two of you," Eliot told him. Quentin's cheek pressed against his back. 

“We both need to try and get some rest, so does James.” Eliot finished his glass and stared through it for a moment, then nodded. 

"I'll come in and say goodnight." Quentin let him go, and they walked inside together. James looked relaxed. 

“Dinner was amazing, Eliot!” Eliot smirked. It was the third time James had complimented his cooking. 

"I'd like to do this again. Hopefully, your girlfriend can join us next time." He slung his arm over Quentin's shoulder. 

“You two are coming back here in the morning, right?” Quentin nodded. 

“We'll be here by nine.” He promised. 

"Get going. You both look beat." James crossed the room to hug Quentin. "I'll see you tomorrow." He escorted the two of them to the door and waited in the mouth of his apartment until they disappeared at the elevator. 

The train back to Brooklyn was relatively empty considering the late hour. Both of them were able to get seats. The weather hadn't decided if it wanted to be warm or cold and had settled in the mid-fifties as they walked the rest of the way to their townhouse. They were within sight of the house when a woman about their age stepped out from an alley. Eliot, thinking she might be a someone trying to mug them, almost blasted her against the brick before he recognized her. 

“Q, Eliot, long time no see.” 

"Kady?" The dark-haired student had disappeared during the middle of her first-year trials. She hadn't failed them; she'd just left without a word to anyone. It had hit both Penny and Alice especially hard. 

“In the flesh.” She crossed both arms over her chest and positioned herself on the sidewalk in front of them. One sleeve of the heavy flannel she wore was rolled up enough to see some of her hedge stars. Why she would abandon Brakebills for that lifestyle was beyond Eliot. 

"Who the hell are you?" Eliot glanced down at Quentin's face. In the darkness, he couldn't read every line of it, but he could tell Quentin was tired and that he didn't appreciate an ambush outside their home in the middle of the night. 

“Jesus, Eliot. You haven't told him anything, have you? I knew you were a self-righteous prick, but keeping him in the dark is just cold.”

“How do you guys know each other?” Quentin asked him. 

"We went to school together for a semester; then she dropped off the face of the Earth." 

“Lying by omission is still lying, Eliot.” 

"Oh I'm sorry, you fucked over people that might have been your friends, THEN dropped off the face of the Earth." The jab was meant to cover both what she'd done to Quentin and Penny. "Penny was clearly in love with you." That made her jerk. Eliot was proud of himself for getting a blow in, even if it was a low one. 

“Don't pretend you know anything about us.”

"There isn't an us; there's a Penny and an Alice." Her face twisted in pain; she apparently hadn't known about them getting together. 

“Can we finish this argument inside? It's cold!”

“No.” Eliot and Kady snapped as one. 

“What do you want?” Eliot demanded. 

“I'd come to talk to Quentin about Julia, but I can see there's no point.” Kady tugged her hood up over her hair and pulled the ends of the cord to draw the cloth tighter. 

“You knew Jules? Wait? Do you know what happened to her?” Kady shrugged and walked backward a couple of steps. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. 

“Ask your boyfriend.” She told him as she turned away from them. Eliot stood frozen in disbelief.

"You know what? Fuck you!" Quentin hissed softly. He jogged a couple of paces to Kady and grabbed her arm. "Eliot didn't have anything to do with Julia's death, so don't you dare insinuate that he did." They were too far away for Eliot to see her face; maybe it softened somewhat if her face didn't her tone certainly did. 

“I wasn't trying to say he had anything to do with hurting her, Q. That wasn't what I meant. He knows why she dropped out of school though, and why she changed so dramatically.” 

“If Julia had wanted me to know all of that she would have told me herself!”

“Q...”

"Don't! We don't know each other; you don't get to shorten my name like we're friends! You don't get to wait outside our house in the middle of the night to drop cryptic bullshit clues about my best friend's death. She's been dead for days; you could have talked to me anytime. How did you figure out where we lived anyway?" Eliot wanted to know the answer to that as well. Kady shifted from one foot to the other in discomfort. Quentin had hit a nerve. 

“Julia was my friend too Quentin. I shouldn't have done this tonight. I'll see you again soon.” She pulled her arm from Quentin's grip and jogged down the street away from them. Eliot walked up behind him and squeezed Quentin's shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” 

“No. I don't understand what's going on.” Eliot guided him towards their door. 

"I know." When they stepped into the house out of the cold Eliot didn't bother taking off his coat. He walked into the living room to grab a bottle of single malt scotch. He poured himself a shot and threw it back. 

“You do know what happened to her don't you?” 

"Not the specifics. I'd only met Julia a few times." He could see Quentin's shoulders slump and poured himself a second shot. 

“You can tell me anything, Eliot! You know that right? I'm not going to turn my back on you.”

"You should wait to say that." Quentin's hand caught his wrist before he could pour the third shot, so Eliot capped the bottle and set it back down. "I think you'll hate me." He muttered softly as Quentin's fingers loosened. He tugged his wrist free to shed his coat, then stepped around Quentin to head upstairs. 

"Eliot, El wait!" Quentin followed close at his heels and caught his wrist again when they reached the upper floor. The smaller man tugged hard, and Eliot found himself pulled close to Quentin's frame. 

"I know we can make this work. I don't care what you're hiding, or why you hid it. Just tell me, tell me all about it, and we'll figure something out." 

"I will. Tomorrow, when we get home from the funeral, okay?" Eliot watched Quentin nod and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. They were chapped from the cold. He needed to remember to toss a tube of lip balm into his coat pocket in the morning, and tissues. "We both need to get some sleep." He whispered. 

“Yeah.” Quentin's hand touched at his waist. “I'm worried about you, El. 

“I'm okay.”

"No, you're not." They reached their bedroom and Quentin started to change as Eliot walked to brush his teeth. His rested his hands on the sink as Quentin joined him, and hung his head. 

“I'm so tired.” The confrontation with Kady could have been an even worse disaster. She could have told Quentin everything before he'd been given a chance. 

"Go lay down." Quentin encouraged. Eliot nodded and started releasing the buttons on his vest and loosening his tie. He stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed. Quentin's arm circled his waist as the smaller man spooned against him. A series of small kisses peppered down his back. "Get some rest." Eliot closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how their circumstances had flipped. He was the one who should be supporting Quentin.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of Julia's funeral arrives, and Kady appears again, but not everything she has to offer comes at face value.

Eliot wasn't feeling much better when his alarm went off at 6:30 that morning. Knowing they had to be at James' by nine he reluctantly left Quentin to sleep and dragged himself into the shower. The hot water helped marginally, and he went through the medicine cabinet when he'd finished in search of something that would help wake him up. After a short debate, he tossed back an Adderall and headed downstairs to make breakfast. 

The drug helped him focus, and he felt somewhat more awake. It would at least help him get through the morning services. He heard Quentin's 7:15 alarm chirp through the floor and sighed in relief when he heard Quentin moving around. The sound of the shower echoed through the quiet house. Quentin's hair was dripping onto the towel around his shoulders when he came into the kitchen. Eliot poured them both cups of coffee. He managed a little smile as he watched Quentin pile spoonfuls of sugar into the mug. 

"What did you take?" Quentin asked as they stood across from one another. "There's no way you are so awake, this early, without having taken something." 

“An Adderall.” Eliot shrugged and sipped his coffee. 

“Jesus, El.” 

"I just need to get through the morning. I made breakfast; we need to eat, and get dressed, then get out of here." Eliot told him as he reached for an oven mitt. The plates he'd prepped sat waiting in the warm confines of the stove. They ate, with Eliot finishing first. He headed upstairs while Quentin ate, and was finishing his tie when Quentin finally joined him. "Your suit is pressed." He told Quentin as his boyfriend's hands settled lightly on his hips. 

“Thanks, El.” His arms settled around Eliot's waist and they leaned into one another until Eliot slapped lightly at Quentin's fingers. 

“You're going to leave my clothes all wrinkled.” It was a half-hearted tease, but it coaxed a smile from Quentin. 

“Heaven forbid you to look less than perfect.” Eliot twisted to kiss his cheek. 

"Get dressed already." He told Quentin as he fiddled with the cuff of the gray pinstriped shirt he'd chosen. He watched Quentin towel the last moisture from his hair then lift the suit hanger from the rack. Eliot picked a silver pocket watch from his dresser drawer and slipped the chain through the watch-hole of his solid gray vest. "Q." He complained just an instant before Quentin stepped back into the bedroom. "You should let me dress you more often." He complimented. 

"Does it look alright?" Quentin asked as he smoothed his hand down the vest. The tailored black suit fit in all the right places, and he'd picked a gray vest and plain white shirt to contrast it. He adjusted the tie and only succeeded in leaving it crooked. Eliot brushed the hair away from his neck and pressed his mouth to the exposed skin. Quentin groaned softly and swatted at him. 

“You look amazing.” 

"We have to leave in less than ten minutes; you can do that when we get home." Eliot resisted reminding him that they had to talk when they got home. He would have preferred the alternative. 

"Hold still," Eliot told him as he adjusted Quentin's tie. "Now we can go." He dug into his dresser for the black gloves Margo had gifted him for Christmas and followed Quentin downstairs. 

They arrived at James' building with minutes to spare and took James' car to the funeral home, where James and Quentin had been invited by Julia's family to pay last respects before the casket was sealed. Once the hearse had been loaded, and James' car had been flagged as part of the funeral procession they drove to the church. 

It had been almost a dozen years since Eliot had set foot in a church. He was mildly surprised that neither he nor the building, burst into flames. Organized Christianity flew in the face of everything that made him, well himself. He felt freakishly tall and awkward like there was a sign with a selection of colorful slurs pinned between his shoulder blades. At least he wasn't overdressed. The realization calmed him a little. Julia's mother was on the board of the Met. Her friends were probably judges, lawyers, and doctors – the clientele he catered to and tried to attract. 

He, Quentin, and James shed their coats into a pile, and the other two men disappeared to help the family with the casket. Eliot admired the church's architecture and tried to force the tension out of his shoulders as he waited. He regretted the Adderall; it was only making him jittery. Through sheer force of will, he resisted both bouncing his knee and reaching for his flask. 

"Scoot." The sharp order pulled him out of his head, and he blinked at Margo in surprise as he slid across the smooth wood of the pew. 

“Thank god, I think some of these people might have pitchforks.” She smiled at him and leaned to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for coming.” He murmured as he tucked the small woman under his arm. 

“You look exhausted.” Eliot shrugged, what was he supposed to say. “Are you going to tell him?” 

“Tonight.” Eliot rested his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes. “What am I supposed to do if this falls apart, Bambi? We've been together for three years. I don't want anyone else.”

“He loves you, El, and you're scaring him. Q's smart. He'll see that everything you've done was to help and not hurt him.”

“I hope so.”

"Do you want me to come over later?" Before Eliot could answer, he was interrupted by the start of the service. Everyone stood, and Eliot watched Quentin and James escort Julia's casket down the aisle. Eliot guided Margo out of the pew when James and Quentin joined them. 

“Hey, Margo.”

"Hey, Q." She gave him a weak smile as the three of them settled with Quentin between them. Her arm went around Quentin's waist. Eliot wrapped his arm around both of them. The service droned on, and he spaced out as he thought about how to explain everything to Quentin best. Quentin sniffled, and Eliot dipped his hand into his pocket for the tissues he had brought with him. His lips pressed to Quentin's temple, then drifted back into his thoughts He snapped back to attention when Quentin squirmed from under his arm, and Margo's fingers snapped in front of his face. 

“Earth to Eliot.” She murmured. “Where did you go?” 

“I was trying to think of the best way to explain everything.” 

"Well this thing is almost over, so let's get ready to go." Eliot dug his gloves from his pocket and pulled them down his fingers. The two of them filtered out of the church with everyone else and met Quentin and James at James' car. Quentin gave Margo a tired wave and melted into her embrace when she offered him a proper hug. "I'm so sorry, Baby. I know you loved her." Margo murmured. 

"Thank you for coming. I know it's hard for both you to take time off." 

“That's why we have a staff.” Margo pet the loose locks of Quentin's hair behind his ears. 

“You should come over to the house later.” Eliot met Margo's eyes over Quentin's shoulder. He nodded in agreement. 

“You have keys, Bambi, and you never use them. You're always welcome.”

“I just don't want to intrude on the little bit of private time you two get.” 

"Call first, and we'll let you know if we've changed our mind." Margo released Quentin and Eliot moved to hug her. The embrace she gave him seemed exceptionally tight. 

“Call me if you need me.” She ordered just loudly enough for him to hear. 

"Yeah." Eliot let her go and followed Quentin into the back seat of James' car. His flask came out almost as soon as the door closed. Quentin gave him a grateful smile as he passed it over. "I haven't been in a church in years! It's was an experience." 

“One you won't repeat?” Quentin asked. 

“Darling, you're burning my skinny ass.” Eliot looped his arm around Quentin's shoulder and managed an honest grin. “I haven't decided if I want a small pagan ceremony, or if we should just go full Roman and hire mourners to crowd the streets and wail at my passing.” Quentin laughed and snuggled tight to him. 

“I thought Roman funerals focused heavily on the person's ancestors, didn't they paint masks to make them look more like people who had already passed away?” Eliot sighed dramatically. 

“And just like that, Roman processional is out the window.” James chuckled from the front seat. The car had started to move. Eliot stretched and crossed one leg over the over. Quentin's hand squeezed his knee. The city passed by in a blur, then changed to manicured lawns and headstones as the car turned into the cemetery. Eliot offered Quentin the flask a final time before they got out of the car and they both took quick drinks.

Standing at the graveside with an even smaller group than the one that had been at the church was more awkward than being in the church had been. Quentin at least knew these people, Eliot hadn't met any of them. He settled Quentin tight against his chest as they faced the casket. Julia's parents had ordered a massive spread of red roses. The flowers spilled over the lid of the dark coffin and dropped petals onto the thin dusting of snow. Eliot adjusted the gray and white herringbone scarf, so it better blocked the cold; the wool felt warm where it lay against his throat. 

"Look." Quentin's gloved fingers squeezed his wrist, and Eliot followed his boyfriend's gaze. Kady was standing near the closest tree. One leather gloved hand pressed against the bark. "What the fuck?" Quentin whispered. 

“I have no idea.” The minister was finishing his remarks, and the casket was lowered. Julia's mother and sister pulled roses from the funeral bouquet and dropped them into the open grave. The two women then pulled out a few more flowers and started passing them out to those who had come. Her mother approached the three of them. She shook James' hand, then moved to shake Quentin's.

"Thank you, both." She told them. "She gave Quentin a worn smile. "The wine was such an unexpected treat. Was it your choice?" Quentin blushed just a little. 

"Eliot picked it out. He owns a wine shop downtown." 

“My husband and I were both impressed.” 

“I can get you my card if my clerk didn't include one.”

“There was one. Thank you.” She offered Quentin another haggard smile. 

“It was nice to see you again.” She told him before she moved on to her next guest. Kady was still waiting near the tree line. 

"Hey James, we'll find another way home." Eliot turned to Quentin in surprise and started to voice a protest when Quentin pulled out of his embrace to walk towards the young woman. 

“I just want to talk, Quentin.” She told them as they got closer.

“Than talk.” 

"Follow me; there's a mausoleum that's open a little farther back. We can talk there without being interrupted." She started to walk without waiting for confirmation. Quentin hesitated. 

“Q, it's cold, let's just go home.” 

"Humor me, please? Jules was my best friend." Eliot felt his shoulders fall in defeat, and he nodded. They had to hurry to catch up with Kady; thankfully she'd left a trail of footsteps in the loose crystals of snow. 

"Where are we going, Kady?" Quentin called after they had walked a moment or two. Julia's burial plot had gotten lost amongst the trees and tombstones. 

“It's not much further.” She called from ahead of them. Following was starting to make the hair on Eliot's arms rise. He felt they should turn back. 

“Q, forget this.” He pleaded.

“No one asked you to tag along, Eliot,” Kady told them. They had closed the distance with her. A massive mausoleum loomed ahead of them, and Kady jogged towards the entrance. She pushed the door open. “Just come in out of the wind.” She called. Quentin jogged to follow her, and Eliot followed a step behind. The cold mid-morning of the cemetery gave way to the harsh industrial cold and lighting of an indoor freezer. Eliot had seconds to process that they had been lead through a portal before something slammed into the back of his head and he blacked out.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina puts her plan to taste Quentin's magical abilities to the test.

Harsh light and unyielding cold coaxed Quentin to wakefulness. His fingers traveled to the back of his head. He winced as they traced the knot that had formed there. Quentin tugged his coat tighter around him to trap as much heat close to his body as he could. That Kady had led them through a portal was obvious, but the experience of such apparent magic hadn't brought any excitement with it. The vaguest memory of branches scratching his face and catching at his coat drifted through his mind as his gaze darted down to Eliot's prostrate form. 

For a heart-stopping moment Quentin feared that Eliot wasn't breathing, then he realized that the lines of Eliot's dark coat were masking the subtle rise and fall of each breath. Words wouldn't have described the relief he felt, but momentary reassurance did little to lessen the gravity of their situation. They needed to find a way out before they froze to death. He levered himself into a sitting position with a quiet groan. 

“You're awake!” Quentin jumped, and he twisted to face the young woman sitting a few feet from them. 

"Who...wh..." Quentin paused and took a shuddering breath, both to calm his nerves and to give himself a minute to find words. "Who are you? Where are we? How do we get out of here?" He ticked off the questions by tapping a different gloved finger following each query. His gaze dropped back to Eliot, and he reached to tuck a loose curl behind his ear; he didn't stir. The end of Eliot's scarf lay spread across the pad that kept them off the concrete floor and Quentin tucked it around Eliot's face to protect him from the cold. After a moment's consideration, Quentin stripped off his overcoat and the suit jacket below it. The overcoat got put back on, but he eased his hand under Eliot's head and pillowed the jacket under his cheek. 

“Is your friend alright?”

“No!” Quentin snapped at her. He sucked a breath of cold air in through his teeth, and briefly cupped his hand around his boyfriend's cheek. Sitting on the floor wasn't helping him, and he couldn't do anything else to help keep the other man warm. Briefly taking off his coat probably hadn't been the smartest decision. Quentin levered himself off the floor and rubbed his head. He ignored the girl and pounded on the freezer door. “Kady!” He shouted. 

“I tried that!” The woman had come to stand behind him.

"So they just left us to freeze to death?" Quentin turned to her and raked his hand back through his hair in frustration. 

“No, it's, I think it might be some sort of test. We, well, I think we have to find a way out.” 

"That's bullshit!" Quentin tucked his hands under his arms as he paced towards some nearby shelves. Mentally he cataloged everything, looking as he walked for anything that they might use to find a way out. His search took him around the freezer, through the shelves, and back to the door, where he ended up studying the screws holding the door hinges in place. 

“What are you looking for?” She asked as she came to stand by his shoulder. 

"This is, they've, fuck." Quentin brought his hands up and blew on them. It made his nose feel a little warmer. "The screws have been taken out before." Quentin traced his fingers over them. "You can see where the tool slipped. If this is a test, we need to find whatever the last group used." 

"Even if you find a tool we would freeze to death before you pried all those screws free. Maybe we can start a fire?" The woman's know it all tone irritated him and rubbed at Quentin's nerves. 

"And suffocate?" Quentin winced at the shrillness of his tone. "Sorry, sorry, you're trying to help." Mentally he filed through the list of everything he'd seen. There hadn't been anything they could burn that would last long enough to keep a fire going unless they used their clothes. "Help me find something for the door." He said as he started a meticulous search of the shelves. 

The woman made an annoyed sound but joined him on the opposite side of the room. They worked along the edges. Her unexpected shriek made him jump, and he walked in long strides to the place where she knelt. 

"Jesus." He breathed in disbelief. "What the fuck lady? Hey! Don't mess with it!" Her fingers shook as she yanked the zipper down the side of the body-bag she had found. A piece of yellowed paper drifted out onto the floor, and she grabbed for it.

“What's this?” She demanded as she thrust it in his direction. “I can't read it.” It took Quentin a moment to tear his gaze away from the corpse. Maybe they had been left here to freeze to death. “Pay attention!” The sharp words brought his attention back to her, and he reached for the paper. The Latin translated with an ease that surprised him. 

"Temporary warmth?" He read through what had to be an ingredients list; everything they would need was somewhere on the shelves of the room, except fat, they would need fat. His eyes dropped back to the corpse and... "This was a test." A pair of scissors had been placed in the bag with the paper, and the tips of the cutting edges would fit the screws. "You're in on this, aren't you, Lady?" Quentin tossed the paper aside as he strode towards her. Before he thought better of it, he'd shoved her up against the closest wall. "Who the hell are you? What the fuck do you want?" 

"Marina, top hedge witch in New York, and what I want is to see if you're as talented as Julia." 

“Talented at what?”

“Magic.” A smile spread across her face, and she brushed her hair back from her face. Quentin could see one of the star tattoos that Julia had become obsessed with on her wrist. “You're a Magician, Harry.” She teased as she reached to tap her finger against his nose. “So was Julia, and I'm assuming your boyfriend over there is too.”

“Let Eliot go!”

"I gave you everything you need to save him. The spell will keep all of us warm long enough to pry out the screws; then I'll get him fixed up, good as new." She performed a few quick motions with her hands, and the paper floated back to them. Quentin snagged it from the air with trembling fingers. 

"You're crazy." He whispered. 

“You should be thanking me.” Her tone was almost coy. 

“For what, exactly? For kidnapping us? For putting my boyfriend's life in danger?”

“For telling you the truth!” 

“You haven't told me anything I didn't already know!”

“Oh really?” The woman's smile widened a little. “We aren't all that different, Quentin. We both got screwed over the same way. I'll teach you everything your friends wouldn't. I'll teach you everything Brakebills prevented you from learning when they expelled you.” 

"Why would I want to learn anything from someone like you?" The cold was starting to make him shiver. They were wasting time arguing. "Let us go!" Quentin thought he had enough pieces to field a fair guess of what had happened to him, at least to a point. If he'd been accepted to an elite school for his abilities, it would explain why he hadn't been around for Julia, and if she hadn't gotten in at all, it might explain the changes she went through. "Why don't I remember any of this?" 

"Because the school wiped it all way, every spell you learned, all the people you met, all the memories you made with them. They took all of it, and dumped you back in the real world alone, with nothing." Quentin resisted the urge to slam his fist into her face to make he stop talking. He'd been luckier than she had, the people who cared about him hadn't abandoned him. Quentin glanced backward towards Eliot's still form. Dread pulled in his stomach. It made every part of him feel heavy. If he died in here, Quentin would never forgive himself. His whole body stiffened, the muscles froze in the position they had assumed when he had looked backward. Marina's long nails gently dragged across his cheek as she walked past him. Quentin watched her kneel by Eliot's head. 

"Please don't hurt him." Quentin tried to combat the panic that being unable to move was triggering; it was an eerily familiar sensation. Marina's hand brushed the curls back from Eliot's forehead, and he stirred. A miserable little noise, somewhere between a squeak and cry, escaped his throat. It cut Quentin to the core, he felt magic ripple along his skin, and he could move again. His hands snapped through a spell that sent Marina flying into the wall. She slid to the floor in a heap as Quentin closed the distance to Eliot's side and dropped beside him. "El?" Amber eyes blinked at him, before closing again. 

“Where?” 

“You have a concussion.” Eliot curled in on himself.

“Q, it's cold.” 

"I know, it's okay. El lay still." Eliot ignored him and levered himself up so he could see their surroundings. 

"Portal." He heard Eliot murmur. Across from them, Marina was picking herself off the floor. 

"Well, this just got fun." Quentin could see her breath puff in the cold as she walked back towards them. She moved her hands through the precise motions of a spell and was a second from casting when she was dragged off her feet into the air. Her eyes widened in fear. 

"You don't want to fuck with me," Eliot told her. He pressed his hands against the floor to steady himself. Marina continued to dangle in the air. 

“El, your nose.” A thin stream of blood had started to drip from one nostril. Quentin wasn't sure if it was from the head injury that had kept him unconscious or the prolonged use of Eliot's powers.

"I'm fine," Eliot assured him. He didn't look well. Quentin could see the faint tremor of his arms as they supported him. He wondered if Eliot could hold her indefinitely. 

“You're telekinetic?” Marina asked, her voice shook just enough to show her unease. 

"I'll snap your neck, all I have to do is think about it," Eliot told her. Quentin could see her swallow. "So stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, stay away from my family." He continued. 

"El." Eliot glanced at him; their eyes met, then Eliot looked away. 

“I'm sorry, I should have told you everything sooner.”

"Let's just get out of here." Eliot nodded and tried to work his legs under him. He wavered, and Quentin moved to support him. He wrapped Eliot's arm around his shoulders and helped him stand. Eliot swayed against him as they walked in the direction where Marina continued to hover. 

“So we agree? If I let you down you're going to leave us alone, right? We never see you again?” 

"Yes." Marina seemed eager to agree with him, being held as she was, with so little effort, apparently didn't agree with her. Eliot lifted his arm from around Quentin's shoulder and walked past her. A panel of bare wall lit up as he started to cast. A gateway shimmered open. Quentin could see their living room; he could feel a warm draft of air. 

"Go, Q." Quentin hesitated for half a second, then darted through the portal into the warmth of their living room. Eliot dropped Marina to her feet; then the taller man stumbled after him. The gateway snapped closed behind him as he went to his knees and supported himself with one hand. He yanked his glove off with his teeth. The heel of his thumb pressed below his nose. 

“El, I... I”

“I'm sorry.”

"Don't, I... I had started to figure it all out! I..." Quentin rubbed his temples in frustration. "Wait, just, wait right there." Quentin jogged into their kitchen and dug into the cabinet for the glass he'd fixed. He almost left the dishtowel he'd wrapped it in, before wetting it down and taking it with him. He offered it to Eliot and watched the blood soak into the damp cloth as Eliot pressed it to his nose. "I fixed it after you left the other night before I found Jules." Quentin turned the glass in his hands. Eliot's gaze remained on the floor. Quentin heard him sniff as he rubbed the towel across his cheek. "I was so upset I'd broken it." Quentin continued. "It just came together under my hands." 

"Figuring out that you have magic doesn't change all the lies I told you. How can you trust me?" 

“I love you, El! Would we even be here if we didn't care about each other?” Quentin blinked away tears.

"No," Eliot whispered. Quentin sat on the floor and gently tugged Eliot towards him. Eliot's face buried against the joint of his shoulder and neck. A sob shook his whole frame as Quentin levered both of them down onto the floorboards. 

“It's going to be okay, shh, shh.” 

"I don't want to hide anything from you anymore, I never did. You have no idea how hard it was. I wanted you to have magic Q, but I didn't want you to learn it from someone like her." Quentin held Eliot against him as the quiet sobs turned to babbled words." 

"I still don't remember any of it. I just have these impressions; there are things I know that I shouldn't, and I randomly remember details that I'd forgotten." Quentin tried to explain. Whatever was happening to him was so confusing. "It's all without context." 

"We will figure it all out, Q. There has to be a reason this is only happening now." Quentin pet his hand through Eliot's curls. There was a bruise there, from whatever Marina had used to strike the back of his head. 

"El, Love, you need to go to the hospital. Please let me take you." He pleaded. Now that the adrenaline was wearing thin he was worried that Eliot might pass out again. Eliot rolled out of his hold and rested his cheek against the hardwood. Quentin was mesmerized as long fingers bent and twisted into impossible positions. Whatever spell he'd crafted flowed back over his body. 

 

"I'm okay," Eliot assured him. He rolled back into Quentin's hold and rested his cheek on his shoulder. "I'm so exhausted." He murmured. Quentin could only imagine it. Eliot had barely slept since the night Julia had died. The toll everything was taking was evident. He ran his hand back through Eliot's hair again; the bruise was smaller, not gone, but it didn't scare him as badly. 

“You're sure?” Before Eliot could answer his phone trilled in his pocket. Quentin dug it out. “Margo.” He told Eliot as he held it for him. Eliot nodded. Long fingers brushed against his shorter ones as he took the device. 

“Bambi?” Eliot met his eyes, and Quentin nodded, giving his permission to invite her over if Eliot needed her. “Yeah, you should come over. Thank you.” He ended the call and pushed himself up to sit, then shouldered off his coat and scarf. Quentin realized his suit jacket had gotten left on the floor of the freezer. He reached for the glass Quentin had set aside and turned it over in his hands. 

"I was trying to pick up the pieces. And it just came back together." Quentin explained again. 

"But you don't remember anything but fragments?" 

"Not really." Quentin hung his head and wiped his arm across his eyes. "I mean, there were a couple of things I'd figured out already." He whispered. 

"Like what?" Eliot asked. 

“Your telekinesis.” Quentin heard the sharp little inhale of air. “You suck at hiding it, El.” 

“Why didn't you ever say anything?” Quentin blinked away tears. 

"I thought that eventually, you would trust me enough to tell me on your own." 

"And the longer i waited, the more you started to think I didn't trust you with anything," Eliot concluded. 

“Yeah.” Quentin sniffled again. “I want to remember, please El? There has to be something you can do!”

“Margo brought back a book from California. We can try one of those spells. I can't promise it will work.”

“Just try.” Quentin pleaded. 

"Once Margo gets here I'll try one of them." Eliot's lips pressed against his jaw as they continued to lay together. "Tell me what else you figured out." 

“That you and I have magic, that Jules did too. James told me I disappeared for most of that four months I don't remember. Marina told me that Brakebills expelled me. Is that true? Or was she lying to try and make me sympathetic to her?”

“They recruited both you and Julia, and you passed the entrance exam, but she didn't.” 

“Then why would they expel me? What did I do?” 

“You tried to do a spell with some other students, but it went wrong. The Dean almost died, and the other students piled all the blame on you.”

“Oh.” Eliot's arms tightened around him.

"You didn't deserve to get expelled, Q. Alice did, it was her spell." Quentin once again pictured a girl with blond hair and dark glasses. The two of them lay together on the floor until they heard a key scratching against the lock. A draft of cold air drifted through the living room from the foyer. 

"Why the fuck are you two laying on the floor?" Margo demanded as she stood over them. "El, Baby, are you alright?" She went to her knees beside them. "What happened to you two after I left the church?" She demanded as Quentin slowly sat up, together they helped Eliot into an upright position. 

"Hedge witches," Eliot told her. "It's a long story."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Marina's revelations Eliot and Quentin decide to try a spell that will allow Eliot to share his memory.

“I'll kill all of them!” Margo ranted as she paced back and forth across their living room.

"You're not killing anyone," Eliot told her from the couch. 

“They could have killed you; they could have killed both of you!” Margo shouted at him. “Do you get that? Do you understand how close you came to dying?”

"Bambi, please." Trying to follow her as she paced was giving him a worse headache than he already had. Margo cut through the field of his peripheral vision again. Eliot groaned, then shut his eyes. Quentin's thigh shifted below his head. Gentle fingers brushed through his hair. Eliot couldn't believe how badly he'd misread things. He had no idea when he'd given away his telekinesis, hurting Quentin like that had never crossed his mind. 

“Maybe you should go to bed.” Quentin murmured to him. 

“I promised you I would try that spell.”

“You need to rest.” Quentin persisted. 

"I need to make up for three years of lying to you!" Eliot didn't want to admit that he still felt terrified. What if Quentin didn't like what a spell would show him? What if he saw that they had never been together before his expulsion and felt like he had been manipulated? "I want you to go to bed with me and know that you belong there." 

“It can wait till morning, El. Please, you were unconscious for ages. It scared me.” 

“You're not trying to cast anything tonight! Have you even looked at the spells in that book?” Margo pushed Quentin's thesis materials around until she'd made enough space on the coffee table to sit. “You're so exhausted you can hardly hold your head up.” 

"Of course I've looked at the book!" Eliot groaned in frustration as the pair double-teamed him. All he wanted was to fix everything that had gone wrong. 

"Go to bed for a few hours, and I'll stay to set everything up." Margo offered 

"I thought you weren't helping me anymore," Eliot muttered. 

“I told you I wouldn't lie for you anymore, but you're finally listening to me. I'm quite agreeable and helpful when I get my way.” 

"Yes, you are."Eliot managed a half smile. He heard a soft laugh from Quentin; then his pillow was moving and forcing him to sit. Quentin grabbed his wrist to drag him off the couch. 

“We're going to bed for a few hours. Margo, if you need anything let me know.” 

"I can manage." Margo fell in behind them as a silent rear guard. She stopped at the stairwell with one foot on the bottom step and her hand on the rail. "Actually sleep!" She called up to them. Eliot doubted that would happen if it did he was sure it would be in limited quantities. He and Quentin stepped into their bedroom, and Eliot started to go through his nightly routine mechanically. He grabbed an extra blanket from their closet before walking towards the bed to spread it out. He'd felt cold since he'd woken up on the floor of the freezer. The pile of blankets didn't seem to help once he curled under them, they were just heavy. Quentin joined him, and Eliot tried his best to lay still. 

“I meant it,” Quentin said.

“Meant what?”

"That I love you. You could have just let me go when the school kicked me out, but you didn't. I would never have known the difference." A hand settled on Eliot's shoulder and encouraged him to roll until they faced one another. "When we were in that freezer I thought... I believed she was going to hurt you. My hands just..." Quentin rolled onto his back to mimic the motions. Eliot recognized them as a battle magic spell, though he'd never tried to cast it himself. "There was a bolt of energy powerful enough to launch her across the room into the wall." Quentin continued. The awe in his tone was impossible to miss. 

"Thank you for protecting me," Eliot told him. He reached for Quentin, gathered him close, and pressed his lips to Quentin's forehead. Quentin squirmed higher so they could properly kiss. Gentle fingers raked back through the loose curls of his hair. It was a subtle check of the bruise. 

“Do I need to wake you up every hour or so?” 

"I'm alright." Eliot rested his cheek on his pillow and closed his eyes. "I'm glad she didn't hurt you." He murmured. With Quentin's arms around him, and their bodies pressed close he felt warmer, sleep didn't seem so impossible. 

\-----------------------

Margo listened as the faint noises above her faded to nothing then crept up the stairs to Eliot's office. The spellbook Alice had provided lay on his desk, and she sat in his chair with both the book and Alice's journal open in front of her. The memory sharing spell seemed easiest to cast with the minimal prep time Eliot had given her. 

She got up and walked to the bookshelves that lined one wall. When Eliot had first acquired the house, she and Josh had spent hours with him as he'd tailored it to his needs, and there was a hidden space behind the shelves where he kept his potion and spell components. The shelves swung on magically silenced hinges, and the scent of mixed herbs raced outward as the seal broke. Margo picked out everything she would need and reset the seals in the space. 

The living room was quiet and dark. Margo hated how early night fell in the late fall. A spell sent the couch sliding backward. Margo took the time to organize Quentin's books into neat piles before moving the coffee table. A second spell rolled the rug that had sat below the table and couch. Once she had cleared enough floor space she consulted the spell book and started to draw on the hardwood; then she set up the candles. 

Everything took a couple of hours to get perfect. Once Margo had finished, she curled on the couch with the book and practiced the hand motions. A particularly tricky Popper's exercise fell in the middle of the spell, but Eliot's hands had always been more dexterous than her own, so it didn't worry her. 

Her best friend slipped silently down the stairs a little over an hour later. In loose jeans and a henley that was about a size too big. He was dressed more like Quentin normally would, and he'd found an opportunity to forego his contacts. His rarely seen glasses were perched on his nose. 

“You've started losing weight again.” His cheek pillowed on her thigh, and she reached down to pet her hand through his hair. 

“It's been a rough month.” 

“You only slept for about three and a half hours. Is that enough?” 

"I can sleep when this is over." He sat up and reached for the book in her lap. She watched in silence as his long fingers worked through each motion of the spell. They flowed effortlessly through the most challenging exercises with ease. 

“Do you want to practice with me?” She offered. 

“What would I show you? I tell you everything.” 

"There has been plenty of shit I haven't done with you. Show me anything." He took a breath, then let it out and nodded. The two of them moved into the spell she had drawn. The candles all flared to life at once as he started to cast. Margo could feel magic making the hair on her arms stand straight as the lines on the floor glowed. She knew when she was supposed to participate, but Quentin wouldn't, so they were going to have to walk him through everything before they tried this with him. Her hands pressed flat against Eliot's and memories flowed into her mind. His hands dropped away before she saw more than a few. 

"At least we know it works." Eliot slipped off the glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He stood gracefully and offered Margo, his hand. The two of them were careful not to disturb the spell as they stepped out of it. Together they refreshed the herbs and replaced a couple of the candles. "I'm going to make coffee," Eliot told her as they finished. Margo reached to squeeze his hand as he walked past her. She heard the squeak of the floorboards above her and walked into the hall as Quentin came down. Her arm snaked around his waist as they walked into the living room. Together they skirted the edge of the spell circle to sit on the couch. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He asked as he studied it. Margo could see curiosity, eagerness, and wariness warring across his expression. 

“We'll walk you through every part of it before we start.”

"There's coffee made, Q," Eliot told them as he came in with a mug. Warm steam drifted off the top as he sat down on Quentin's other side. Quentin moved to sit against him, and Eliot raised his arm to hold him close. "I guess we should walk you through this before we do it." 

"That's what Margo just told me." Eliot nodded. He set the coffee aside and moved to sit on a bare spot of floor. "Just watch the two of us, then you will take her place. We won't do this for real until you have it down. I don't want to hurt you." 

\---------------------------

Sitting in the spell glyph was different than sitting to the side as he and Quentin had practiced. Eliot could feel his palms sweating, and he wiped them on his jeans as Quentin sat across from him. Unease twisted in his gut, psychics had been his weakest discipline group, and he was about to mess with the mind of the person most important to him. 

“Are you ready?” He asked. His voice was low. He could see the lines of Quentin's throat working as he swallowed. 

“Yeah.” 

"Don't get distracted by the candles." Eliot reminded him. He leaned across the circle to squeeze Quentin's hands. "I'm going to start." His hands formed the first poppers form as he spoke the beginning words of the spell. The candles flickered to life around them, casting Quentin's face in warm light from multiple directions, then the spell lit up. Their hands pressed together, and he let his memories flow free. 

It was difficult; he'd always been one to keep his wards high and strong, so dropping them to let another see felt wrong – even if they were technically Quentin's memories too. Eliot made an effort to keep everything in order, starting with their first meeting when Quentin had stumbled through the hedges and walked across the Sea, then finding him in his freshman dorm with Margo, and showing him around campus. Weeks of memory, of parties, and late nights, to the news of the first year class, was under attack. He wondered how Quentin was interpreting all of this. They had never actually been a couple until after Quentin had been expelled. 

His memory reached the point where they had sat on the patio when he'd told Quentin on a whim about Logan and Quentin had told him about his hospitalizations. Quentin's hands moved, their fingers intertwined. He'd probably meant it as a way to comfort both of them. He couldn't remember that the smallest movement could fuck up a spell. Eliot got a glimpse of a twelve-year-old Quentin being admitted, and he realized to his horror that Quentin actually saw what he'd done to Logan. Quentin's hands squeezed against his own. Eliot wished he'd remembered before they had started just how horrible Quentin's mental wards could be. Once memories began to bleed through the connection, Quentin had no way to stop them. Eliot threw his shields back up and used to telekinesis to loosen the grip Quentin had on his hands. Once their palms no longer touched the spell died out. The candles and spell lines snuffed out all at once. Confusion clouded on Quentin's face, then his eyes rolled back, and he started to topple. 

"Q!" Eliot reached for him, first with his powers, to keep him from hitting the floor, then with his arms once he was close enough. He cradled the smaller man against his chest as his heart raced. Margo dropped onto the floor beside them. Tendrils of smoke drifted through the air from the burnt candle wicks. Drops of wax cooled on the hardwood. 

“What happened?” She demanded as she reached to pet Quentin's hair. 

"I told him about Logan before they expelled him, and he told me about how his depression landed him in the hospital." Eliot rested his forehead against Quentin's. "Our memories started to bleed, and he didn't have good enough wards to stop them." Quentin made a small noise as he stirred again. "Q, Quentin, baby are you okay?" He let Quentin pull out of the embrace to sit, but he could tell something was wrong. He'd known Quentin long enough to read the signs that he was about to have a panic attack. 

“Where am I? Who...” Quentin's eyes slipped between the two of them with zero recognition, then around the living room. That none of it was familiar was obvious. “I... d... don't, what's.”

“Quentin? Shh, it's going to be okay.” Eliot reached to try to calm him down, but Quentin's next words made him drop his hand back to his lap. He blinked away tears of disbelief. 

“Quentin... is that my...” The words died off abruptly as Margo cast a sleep spell. She guided Quentin's head against her chest and gently pet his hair. 

"It's going to be okay, Baby." She promised him to Quentin as she blinked away tears. "We'll fix this. I promise." 

"How Margo?" Eliot demanded. "I just destroyed my boyfriend's memory! I can't fix that!" 

“Go get your alumni key.” She ordered softly. “We have to tell the Dean we need a memory specialist.” 

“We can't go to Henry!” Eliot cried. 

“Go get your goddamn key!” She snarled at him. “We aren't leaving him like this!” Her tone softened. “I know you're scared, El, but we aren't giving up on him. We both love him too much for that. Go put on shoes, get your key, and go to campus. I'll stay with him.” Eliot blinked away tears and nodded. His feet scrambled on the floor as he tried to stand. He knew she was right, but standing before Henry and confessing what he'd done made him feel sick.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate for help after the failed spell Eliot goes to Brakebills to get the name of a memory specialist from Henry.

Warm sunlight washed over him as Eliot walked across campus towards the main administration building. His hands shook as he tried to light the cigarette that hung his fingers, so he flicked it away. The thing disappeared before it could hit the ground. Eliot wished he could follow it, that he could just disappear into some blank void and be forgotten. Anything seemed preferable to facing how he'd completely and utterly destroyed everything good in his life. 

He had expected the students to be gone; maybe the school had slipped even farther off its proper time axis in the year since he'd graduated, more likely everyone was preparing for their finals and would be gone within the week. Hopefully, full classes of students meant Henry was on campus. 

The steps leading into the main building seemed taller than they ever had, even as he took them two at a time. A bell rang, and the hallways started to fill before he'd gotten anywhere close to Henry's office. Around him, doors opened, and students poured out. Any other day he might have negotiated the swirling currents of students with ease, today he found himself using a water fountain as a buffer until the hall thinned again. He raked his hand back through his hair to tame the loose curls before stepping around the faintly humming metal oasis. 

 

His shoes echoed against the tile as he walked the last of the distance to Henry's office. The door to the outer room stood open, and he hesitated at the threshold. He had always respected Henry. The man was one of the most competent magicians alive, far and away the most powerful Eliot had ever met. There had been moments that Henry had almost been more father to him than his father had been. Eliot wasn't sure how to explain it, but he'd always somehow felt like Henry had a vested interest in him. Margo would have called it hubris on his part, a case of inflated ego, but there had been instances where he was positive Henry seemed particularly proud of his successes. 

Eliot slipped the glasses off his nose and breathed against the lenses. He was hesitating. Telling someone what he'd done to Quentin would make it real in a way that hadn't hit him yet. The possibility that Q might be beyond help made his palms sweat. It made his muscles tense in apprehension. Eliot couldn't get the look that had crossed Quentin's face when he hadn't even known his name from his mind. Margo was right. Leaving their best friend like that wasn't an option. He stepped through the door of the outer office and past the empty desk of Henry's secretary. The inner door sat partially open, but he reached to knock anyway. 

"Come in; I haven't got all day." Henry's gruff voice made Eliot feel like a chasm had opened in front of his feet. One wrong step would start a cascade that would take him with it. 

“Henry, I was hoping you had a few minutes.”

“Eliot? I was starting to wonder who was lurking out there.” Henry gestured to a pair of empty chairs. “Sit, I think at least one is empty.”

"Thank you, Sir." Eliot breathed as he sank into the offered seat. He laced his fingers together and rested the clasped hands in his lap. How did one begin a conversation like the one he was about to start? Henry mimicked him. The man's hands came together and rested against the surface of his desk. A silence stretched between the two of them. 

"So is this a social call, or are you in need of some assistance?" Henry finally asked. Eliot felt all the tension flow out of his shoulders as they dropped. A knot had formed in his throat. Henry seemed content to wait him out. The man got up and silently walked around his desk and the chairs. Eliot heard the door shut, and the lock click. He tracked Henry the noise he made as he walked to a small bar behind them. A wine cork popped free from its bottleneck and Eliot listened as air replaced the liquid. One of the glasses hovered in front of his face until he unclasped his hands to take it. 

Henry had chosen a red, and the neck of the glass was wide to accommodate it, designed so the full aroma would come into play as one drank. Eliot wondered if Henry had narrower glasses to use when he chose a white instead of a red. Eliot waited for Henry to sit again before he sipped it. It was more sweet than bitter, and it didn't dry out his mouth the way wine high in tannins would. He'd either never had it or was too exhausted to identify precisely what it was he was drinking. 

“So what kind of trouble have you gotten into?” Henry asked as he sat back in his chair. Eliot watched him bring the glass to his lips. 

“I need the name of a memory specialist.”

"Is this for Quentin?" Eliot hung his head and blinked away tears. Of course, Henry had known, not that he'd ever made a secret of it. 

“Yes.”

“Eliot.”

"He never deserved to get expelled, Henry! I don't know what Alice, Penny, and Kady told you, but that spell was never Quentin's idea!" Eliot blinked away angry tears. He heard Henry set his glass aside when he glanced up the man had leaned forward, and his hands were clasped against his desk again. 

“Tell me more.” 

"It was Alice's spell. She chose what to cast; they were trying to contact the spirit of her dead brother. Nothing happened. They all thought it had failed; then their class got attacked the next day." Henry took off his glasses and sighed. He leaned back in his chair. 

"I didn't decide to expel him, though I doubt that makes you any less angry. I was unconscious in an ICU when Professor Sunderland took charge of the investigation. Expelling Quentin was her choice, and I was rather irate when I woke up and found that such... unilateral action had been taken. I had two choices. I could stand by Sunderland's decision or reverse it. At the time it seemed better to stand with the member of my staff." Eliot finished his glass. That news helped marginally, at least it restored some of the faith he'd lost in Henry following the decision. "Now what I don't understand is why you're asking for a reversal now. It's been three years." 

“He, I... we are, were... I don't, Henry, just give me a name, please.” 

“What did you do, Eliot?” The firm demand for a clear answer made Eliot pause. He sucked a breath in through his nose. 

"I completely wiped his memory. I knew I couldn't fix the block the school had done, so I tried to share my memories, and I screwed it up. Our minds started to bleed together, and when he woke up, he didn't know me. He didn't recognize our living room. Right now he doesn't know his name. You can't leave him like that. I'm begging for your help. I can't fix this. I don't even know where to begin." Henry stared at him for a few seconds, then got up to get the bottle. The man's hand squeezed his shoulder as Henry leaned over him to refill his glass. 

"Is someone watching him?" He asked after a couple of minutes of silence had lapsed. 

"Margo." Saying she had helped him felt like a betrayal. If someone was going to get blamed and punished, Eliot wanted all the repercussions to fall on his shoulders. 

“Good.” Henry sat, and refilled his glass, then left the bottle between them. Eliot filed away the details on the label. “It might take a couple of hours to get in contact with the right specialist, and for them to get here. Go home, and keep an eye on him. I'll have someone there by this evening.” A relieved breath exploded from Eliot's lungs. He nodded, too grateful to form words.

“Thank you.” He finally managed. 

"He'll be alright, Eliot. With the aptitude you showed for psychics, I doubt you did lasting damage." 

"I think my inexperience increases the chance that I hurt him permanently.." Eliot confessed quietly. He finished the rest of the wine. 

“Eliza can fix whatever you've done. I have every faith in her, now go home.”

“Yes, sir.” Eliot stood and set the glass on the edge of Henry's desk. He heard the bell ring and waited in the outer office for the halls to clear before heading towards a portion of campus where he could make a portal home. 

\------------------------

Getting Quentin upstairs to his bedroom by herself had taken more effort than Margo liked to admit, but at least he was comfortable, and still safely asleep. Just to be sure he would stay that way she refreshed the sleep spell she had placed on him. Watching him topple into Eliot's arms played on a loop in her mind. She couldn't ignore the part that she had played in putting him there. The spell they had tried to perform had been her choice. It had been on her insistence that Eliot had agreed to try it in the first place. Maybe if she hadn't put so much pressure on him, they wouldn't be here now. 

Margo rubbed her fingers under his eyes; they came away damp and smudged with mascara. She gently swept loose hair away from Quentin's forehead and leaned over him to kiss the skin. 

“El and I will find a way to fix this, Sweetheart.” She promised him. “He loves you so much.” She pet her hand through his hair a few more times, then reluctantly got up to walk into the bathroom to fix her face. She checked on him a final time and walked downstairs to find something to eat. When she returned to the bedroom with a glass of wine and a bag of cheese cubes he still hadn't stirred. With a sigh, she collapsed into a nearby chair and dozed until she heard a noise downstairs. 

“Margo?” Eliot sounded almost frantic, which she supposed shouldn't surprise her. They had moved Quentin to the couch before he'd left. Eliot had probably expected to find them downstairs when he got back. She sealed the bag of cheese and took it with her as she walked out of the bedroom, then down the hall. 

"Relax, El. I just took him up to the bed where he would be more comfortable." She assured him as she walked down the stairs to join him. 

“Is he still asleep?” Dark circles stood out under Eliot's eyes. 

"He's fine." She offered him the bag of cheese. "Eat something." She ordered. "He's still asleep. Is Henry going to send someone? Or are we on our own?" She watched him fish a handful of marbled Colby-Jack cubes from the bag. 

“He's sending some woman named Eliza, and said that he has every confidence in her.” 

“That's great!” Margo intertwined her fingers with his. She had feared that Henry would stick to his guns and be unwilling to compromise or help them. “When is she going to be here?” 

“He told me by this evening.” Hours seemed like an eternity to wait. “I want you to go home.” He continued. 

“El, that's crazy!” Margo set the bag on the top of the stair rail and crossed her arms over her chest. Eliot's hands gripped her biceps. 

"Margo I'm not going to argue this with you! I can handle this. This situation has already gone so wrong; if it gets worse, I don't want you caught in the middle." 

“I'm just as responsible for what happened to him as you are.”

"No, you're not!" His fingers dug almost painfully into her arms. "It was me, Bambi! I should have waited a few more days; I should have practiced with him more! You picked a spell that worked until he and I messed it up. I have to face the consequences if she can't help him the way Henry thinks she can." 

"You're going to do something stupid if she can't help him, and you don't want me to see it!" Margo felt her eyes burn, and she blinked away tears. She knew Eliot and his cycles of guilt. He tended to be self-destructive. She moved to circle her arms around his waist. "If I leave I had better still have my best friend in the morning." She murmured against his chest. I don't want to lose both of you, El. That's not fair! Promise me you won't do anything stupid." The hug she got from him was one of the tightest he'd ever given her. It was more a confirmation of her fear. He wasn't even lying to try and appease her. 

"Gather up your stuff and go home." He murmured. 

“You're such a bastard!” She hissed at him as he pulled loose from his hold. 

"Did you see him, Margo? Q doesn't know who he is! He didn't know who I am! Can you blame me for not wanting to remember that?" Margo sniffled. 

“I'll remember it too.” She pointed out. 

"Bambi." He reached for her again and pulled her into a much more gentle embrace. 

“She can fix him. We have to believe that.” She said to him.”

"I hope so. Now get your stuff, okay?" She hated that he was going to make her leave. 

"Call me, even if she can't fix him. At least say goodbye to me." He gave her a watery smile. His lips pressed briefly against her hair. 

"I can do that." He promised. Margo sensed that this would be the best compromise she could coax from him, and reluctantly walked into the living room to get her things. "I love you." He told her as he walked her to the door a few minutes later. "And I'm never going to blame you for what happened to him. It's all on me. I should have never lied to him from the beginning." 

"I'll see you tomorrow," Margo told him with more confidence than she felt.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry enlists Jane to help with Eliot's request. While she is trying undo the effects of the spell Henry makes a suggestion to Eliot.

"So we agree?" Jane asked as she and Henry stepped onto through their portal onto slick concrete and piled leaves. Bare trees reached towards the darkened sky. The time dilation between Brakebills and the real world never ceased to amaze her, especially when it was nearly Summer in one and the bitter opposite in the other. She offered Henry her arm and led the way down the street. "I must say, Eliot has rather expensive tastes when he's given a chance to express it." Henry chuckled softly. 

“I've heard good things about the business he and Margo started.” 

"Yes." Jane pursed her lips. It was a shame they wouldn't be able to keep it. Once Quentin was sorted, and back into the fold she and Henry would be forced to advance the time loop. When Quentin had been expelled before she could intervene it had seemed like such a unique opportunity to see if the rest of his friends could actually finish their terms at Brakebills without the interference of her brother. All the time that had gone into such a long loop was unraveling at an alarming rate, first Julia, now they might have lost Quentin. 

"We aren't resetting unless there isn't a fix for whatever Eliot has done," Henry told her. 

“And if I can get him sorted?” 

"Then you give him back everything the memory specialist removed, and I will get him enrolled back into Brakebills again as soon as possible." Jane patted the little box that was tucked under her arm. 

"I'm sure it won't take much." She assured Henry as the two of them approached the address she had been told to find. "Quentin has never been one to turn away from magic." She added as she reached to lift the latch on the gate. She helped Henry navigate the unfamiliar stairs then waited as he knocked. They heard noise on the other side of the wood, and the door opened almost immediately. Jane thought Eliot might have been sitting with his back to it as he'd waited for them. He'd taken a shower at some point in the evening; his hair was still damp as it hung behind his ears. That he had exhausted himself was abundantly clear. 

“Henry, I didn't realize you would be coming as well.” He gestured the pair of them inside and offered her his hand. “It's Eliza, isn't it?” Jane reached to give his hand a brief shake, then started to remove her gloves. She undid the buttons of her gray caplet coat and hung it on the nearby rack. 

"You have a lovely home, Eliot. If you'll be a Dear and point me in Quentin's direction, I'll get started." She did her best to sound cheery, and not reach out to cup Eliot's cheek. The poor boy looked terrible like he'd been worn thin and was hanging around by strings. She hoped she could fix Quentin. It seemed apparent that if she lost one she would probably lose them both, then Margo and the whole line of dominoes would continue to fall. She'd be forced to reset. 

“Has there been any change since you got back this afternoon?” Henry asked. Jane watched him at the older man gripped both hands around the top of his cane. 

"Margo and I kept him asleep so he wouldn't have panic attacks." Eliot's flask came to his lips, and he sipped it. Jane could see his hands shake as he capped the thing. He disappeared into the living room for a moment; he came back with a thick spell book and a smaller journal. "Come on; I'll take you upstairs, and show you what we tried to cast." 

Jane shifted the box, so it sat under her other arm and ran her hand along the smooth rail of the banister as she followed him up to the stairs and off to the right. Eliot opened the door of the largest bedroom; he crossed to the bed and dropped onto the mattress. Eliot's long fingers intertwined with Quentin's as the taller man leaned to rest his forehead against his boyfriend's. He whispered words Jane couldn't hear to Quentin, then sat up. The book got laid on the bed so he could page through it. He opened the journal to a tabbed entry. 

 

“This is what we tried to cast.” He gestured to the spell. “And these are Alice's notes.” Jane was pleasantly surprised that Alice's hands had become involved in all of this. 

“How did all of you come to acquire this book?” Her hands ghosted over the ancient vellum pages. 

“I think Penny found it.” Jane chuckled softly. They had all had a hand in trying to fix Quentin. It was a relief to see that Quentin was still the glue that bonded them all together, even if the tethers were the weakest they had ever been.

"I guess it came from the Library of the Neitherlands then." She commented. Penny had learned to travel well if he'd found his way to the Neitherlands without the button. It was the first hint that letting the majority of the group master magic might have been a good choice. 

"If you can't fix him, do whatever you have to, make a whole new set of memories if that's what it takes. I just want him to wake up knowing who is, even if it's an entirely new person. 

“I'm sure I can fix this, Eliot.” Jane walked farther into the bedroom. She pushed aside a phone and a pile of business cards, then sat the little box on the bedside table. She took a seat on the side of the bed opposite Eliot.

"If you can't fix this I don't want to remember either. I don't want to remember that my best friend trusted me and I hurt him. 

“I assure you that Quentin will be good as new in a handful of hours.” She reached to pat his hand. “Now go keep Henry company and give me space to work.

"There's no way I can help is there?" 

"If I need your assistance I won't hesitate to ask," Jane assured him. Letting them stay together for three years had probably been a mistake. If they defeated Martin their future would be full of sacrifices. Eliot's destiny was to be a Fillorian king. None of them would have the lives they had started to build for themselves. She watched him stand, the door pulled closed behind him as she turned her attention to Quentin. Having him already asleep was a blessing. It was much easier to manipulate memory through dreams. "Hello, Quentin. Let's see what damage has been done to you, shall we?" She started to cast and reached to rest her fingers against his forehead. His eyes darted behind closed lids for the first time since she had laid eyes on him. 

\----------------------------

Henry was patiently waiting where he and Eliza had left him as Eliot walked back down to the lower floor. An afternoon of waiting had left him numb. His raked long fingers back through damp hair. His glasses were going to leave marks on his nose since he'd worn them for most of the day. 

"Can I get you something, Henry? Whiskey, or wine?" He laughed. "I've put a bit of a dent in the stock I have on hand, but it's a top-notch collection." 

"I've heard only good things about your shop. You're rapidly making a name for yourself. Honestly, I'm rather impressed." Eliot led the older man into the living room and guided him down into one of the armchairs. 

“Would you prefer a red or a white?” Eliot asked. He rocked on his feet as he waited for an answer. The afternoon had been marked by exhaustion, but now anxiety was taking its place. 

“We shared a red this afternoon, let's try a white now. Something lighter. Have you eaten today?”

"I ate a little earlier. Give me a few minutes to pick something. Eliot rubbed his hands against the pockets of his jeans. The texture of the material and the contrast of the small metal buttons at the pocket corners created a slight distraction. He tried not to think about what might or might not be happening above them. 

A door below the staircase led down to a small basement, and the private collection of wine he had started putting together. Hopefully, when, if, Quentin's mind was whole again they could entertain more. Eliot wanted to fill their home with people from time to time. He wanted Quentin to experience how wild a magical party could get when there wasn't an exam the next morning. Two bottles of wine came to his hands, and he walked back up the stairs to the main floor. 

"Would you prefer a pinot grigio or a chardonnay?" He asked Henry as he retrieved white wine glasses from his bar. 

“Let's try the Pinot.” A wine corkscrew floated to Eliot's hand after he'd set the Chardonnay aside. 

"There's a hint of honey in this; I think you'll like it." He told Henry as he poured. Henry sniffed the wine before he tasted it, and swished a bit on his tongue.   
"It's excellent. I'll have to send someone to see what sort of selection you have on hand. The school's wine cellar could use an upgrade." 

"That would be great for us." Eliot stared down into his glass. Landing a contract with Brakebills would be a huge boost for them, it would more than compensate for all the time he'd taken off between the California trip and Julia's funeral. "We can set up a tasting at the school if you would like." He offered as he got up to pace. He ended up at the coffee table and the piles of books for Quentin's thesis. There was a chance he'd never get to finish it. 

"I see one of you is a reader," Henry commented as Eliot's fingers brushed across the cover of the top book. 

"We both read more than you would think. Most of this is for Quentin's grad school thesis. It's due at the end of the semester. He's studying post-war British children's literature." A quiet chuckle came from Henry's direction. 

“It seems both of you were doing well.” 

“Not as well as you would think. I kept magic a secret from him. It was starting to destroy us. He didn't think I trusted him.” 

"I'm sure when his memory is fully restored, and he's able to see the larger picture he'll understand the choices you made." 

“Fully? Can she give him back the memories he had from when he was at the school?” A little candle of wild hope had ignited in Eliot's chest. It wasn't enough to make him excited, but the possibilities were better than he'd ever imagined. “Are you going to let him be a student again?” 

“That's up to Quentin. Eliza has permission to make the offer.” 

"He would love that." Eliot agreed. The thought of Quentin getting to return to Brakebills forced a tiny smile onto his face. "He loves magic, Henry. I'm sure he'll want to go back." Eliot wasn't exactly excited about the idea, especially since Quentin's trials would happen rather quickly. The thought of losing him for months when they finally had the chance to be together without lies between them was hard to accept. "I think I need something a little stronger than wine." Eliot left his wine glass on the bar and walked towards the kitchen. He removed one of the metal disks from his freezer and poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey. 

"You have a lovely home," Henry told him from the mouth of the kitchen that led from the dining room. Eliot wondered just how well the older man could actually see. He hooked his thumb towards the entrance of the kitchen that led into the billiard room. 

"There is a couch in here." He told Henry as he flipped on the lights. The set of vintage balls clicked against one another as they racked themselves. The thought of Quentin leaving had tripled the amount of nervous energy in him. He was going to end up sick by the time all of this was finally settled. The whiskey tumbler got rested on the edge of the table as Henry came to join him. The leather couch creaked under the man's weight as Eliot lined up the cue ball. 

"Have you considered mentoring?" Henry asked after he'd methodically run the table and set the balls back up to play the second round. 

“I would be the worst possible mentor you could ever give one of your students, Henry.” 

"Quite the contrary. You took a talent and turned it into a successful business, you've held a steady relationship for three years, and keep, what appears to my limited vision, to be a well-ordered home." Henry tapped his cane on the ground a couple of times. "You're one of the few who put their stipend money into something productive." 

"All that only happened because I had the right motivation, Henry! Without Q, I'm a wreck. I would have overdosed at some party two months after I graduated. He deserved so much better than he got. I took this integral part of him and did everything I could to hide it. I didn't want him to throw himself aimlessly into hedge magic because your school denied him the real thing." Eliot's shoulders slumped. His whiskey glass floated off its cooling plate to his hand. The pool balls racked into a neat triangle. "He's my best friend, the only guy I've ever fallen in love with." The bottle zipped from where he'd left it in the kitchen. He threw himself down on the couch and stared down at the glass between his fingers. "And I can't do anything to help fix what I broke."


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fixing part of Quentin's memory goes well, but Jane realizes she needs Eliot's help to fix Quentin's most recent memory.

Jane rubbed her temples with one hand and rested the other on the blanket below her fingers. It had taken her longer than expected to unlock the metaphorical box that Quentin's memory was trapped in. What she had found was a disordered mess mixed with bits of Eliot's memory. 

To start, she'd had to weed out the pieces of Eliot's past that Quentin hadn't needed to see. What had happened to Logan Kinnear, for example, was something not even Eliot should have gone through. Once Quentin's mind had been cleared it was easy to order and guide him through his childhood memories correctly. She made all of it a dream, one where Quentin believed he walked a Fillorian road influenced by his childhood. She made sure he saw as much as he could, from his earliest childhood, through high school, then his years at Columbia, and finally through his brief experience at Brakebills. They were memories she had long since become acquainted with through the time loops. 

What came after Brakebills proved frustratingly difficult for her to correct. It was harder to find the right order from memory of an adult. Children were more relaxed, with less stable shields. They grew, and that growth was linear. Once someone reached adulthood, the markers became more subtle – a new scar here, an age line or wrinkle, a fractional loss in height. Both Quentin and Eliot were so crucial to defeating her brother. Jane wished she had paid more attention to the life they had formed together if she had than fixing the mismatched memories would be a piece of cake. As it was there were points where Jane wasn't sure if a memory was Eliot's or Quentin's. She had no idea what to remove and what to save, or how to order any of it. As gently as she could, she walled up everything after Quentin had been expelled 

“Quentin, it's time to wake up.” She needed to make sure the dream had worked as she had intended. He blinked at her; his voice was raspy when he spoke. 

“Eliza?” He levered himself up onto his elbows to look around the room. “Where am I?”

“What's the last thing you remember?” She asked him as she reached to squeeze his hand. 

“Me... I, sitting down with a memory specialist at Brakebills. Why, wait, if they expelled me why do I still remember everything?” His voice had stayed raspy, and he coughed. 

"I'm going to get you some water; then we'll talk." 

“Water, water would be good.” He rubbed his face. “I feel like I've been asleep for days.” He murmured. 

"For most of a day at least." She told him. "Stay right where you are," Jane told him as she stood. A glass sat on the edge of the sink in the bathroom off the bedroom. She washed it clean and filled it. Quentin was seated when she walked back in to join him, and he'd scooped up the phone that had been laying on the bedside table. A few rogue tears had streaked down his face. 

"How much of my memory is missing?" Jane watched him thumb through photos. "How long have El and I been together? I don't remember any of this." Jane reached to cover the screen with her hand. Once his finger stopped sliding across the screen, she slipped the device from his grip. "We, he and I, we look really happy together." He whispered softly 

“Of course you are happy, you've been together for three years, Quentin.”

“Three fucking years? How did I lose three years?” Jane reached to cup his cheek with her hand. 

“You haven't lost anything. It's all in your head, just temporarily blocked.” 

“What happened to me?” Quentin demanded. His voice was starting to rise, and Jane feared that it might draw Eliot back upstairs before she was ready. 

"You and Eliot grew quite close following your expulsion." She tried to explain. 

"Wait, El did he actually... I can't believe he did it." Quentin rubbed his fingers across his eye. Jane passed him the water she had brought him. "I thought he was just trying to make me feel better." 

"Did what exactly?" Jane asked. She must have missed some all-important detail when she had rebuilt his mind. 

"He promised to find me if I got expelled because I told him I was worried I would kill myself if I didn't have magic anymore." Jane patted his thigh. 

“That seems to be exactly what he did.”

“So why can't I remember any of it? Why is it blocked?”

"The two of you tried a memory spell together, to fill what you were missing from your time at Brakebills, but it went wrong, and many of your memories have bled together with his. I want to put them back in the right order." 

"Is El okay?" Quentin demanded. Bless the two of them. Jane thought to herself. She could always count on them becoming the closest of friends. 

"He had much better shields than you did. He's downstairs with Henry." Jane resisted the urge to smile at the relieved breath that raced through Quentin's chest. 

"Can't he help? If all you need is to know the order things happened in isn't there a way to see the order in his mind?" Jane reached to squeeze both of his hands. Quentin had always been one of the clever ones. Having a role to play that would fix things might be what Eliot needed to heal. 

"I will go talk to him to ask if he's willing to let me into his mind long enough to do that." 

“Can't you just ask him to come up here.”

"I could." Her hands had never left his, and she squeezed the digits again. She could, but she wasn't going to. The boys could have their reunion once she and Henry had gone. She had seen enough of their mixed memory to know that there were issues of trust that only they would be able to work through. Quentin finished the water and set the glass back on the table. 

“I feel so tired.” He lamented quietly. 

"Than lay back down." Jane coaxed. She whispered a sleep spell once he'd complied and got up to stretch. Her hands pressed to the middle of her back until it popped. The hallway was bright after sitting in the bedroom with nothing but a bedside lamp. Eliot must have been listening for noise on the stairs because he came into the entrance hall from a back room. 

“Is Q alright? Could you fix everything?” 

"I've made a good bit of progress," Jane told him. She rested her hand against the middle of his back and walked with him into the living room. It took little persuasion to get him to sit again. 

“But you haven't fixed everything yet, have you?”

"I've restored everything up through his time at Brakebills, but I admit that I'm at a loss when it comes to the last couple of years. Your memories bled into his. I'm not sure what belongs to you, and what belongs solely to him." 

“Does he know what I did to Logan?” 

"He knows because you told him, but not the actual memory of it happening." Jane brushed her thumb below his eye. "I told you he would be alright. Everything is still in his mind; it's just blocked and mixed up. 

"There's nothing you can do is there? To fix the last couple of years?" Jane sat beside him and rested her hands on his knee. Of course, that would be the most important part. "You want to see inside my head, don't you? That's why you came back downstairs." 

"I only need to see enough to give me a rudimentary map. Bits of your memory are mixed with Quentin's; I want to remove them, so he's not confused." 

“Let him keep some of them. Part of the reason we tried the spell is because he was angry I kept magic from him. Maybe if he sees parts of my reasoning he'll understand all the decisions I made.” His fingers rubbed one eye. “I don't want to lose him.” He confessed. 

"Whether he leaves or stays is something the two of you will have to sort once I'm done fixing his mind. I don't think he's going anywhere. He seems to care for you very genuinely, and your feelings for him are apparent. Look at everything you've done for him. Quentin will see the measures you took to assure his happiness. The misunderstandings the two of you face will pale in comparison to the love you have for him. 

“You have no idea how much I lied to him. I isolated him. I made so many mistakes.”

“No relationship is without mistakes and regrets. You're a fool if you think life can happen without hardship. You love each other Eliot. You fell in love with him the second you met him.” 

"I still don't understand why" Eliot whispered. "I bonded with him as soon as I saw him, the same with Margo. I never trusted anyone until I met the two of them." Jane resisted the urge to sigh, that was all a residual effect of 39 previous time loops, of 39 lives tangled together as best friends and lovers. 

"What matters is that you found one another and that you held onto him when others tried to take him away." She glanced towards the mouth of the living room, where Henry stood watching them. "Are you willing to help me fix him or not?" She let her tone get a little bit cross; it was just the push he needed. She was relieved when he nodded. His elbows rested on his knees, and he hid his face in his hands. 

"Yeah, anything for Q." Jane felt terrible for him; she knew how guarded he preferred to keep his mind. He was afraid anyone who got a glimpse would turn away from him. "What are you exactly? A psychic, or a knowledge student?" Jane almost teased him, almost told him that she was more a hedge with than anything. She certainly wasn't a psychic, the only reason she knew them so well was because she used them for her own goals. 

"Does it matter? I'll be out of sight again as soon as Quentin is fixed up. You trusted me to help him. You let me into your home, so let me finish." Eliot lifted his face from the shadow of his hands and nodded. 

“What do I have to do?” He asked, in a tone that was soft and resigned.

“Lie back, or down. Whichever.” Jane twisted her hands one way than the other until he'd made himself comfortable. A sleep spell made him go limp. 

“Are you alright?” Henry asked. His arms were crossed over his chest as he watched her. 

“Letting them stay together for three years was a mistake, Henry. We should just reset.” 

"We are not resetting, finish what you started. Once Quentin is back at Brakebills he'll be drawn to Fillory again. Hopefully, they'll be prepared enough, or at least committed enough to one another to find a way to save what they've built." Jane pursed her lips. Henry didn't know what would come after, in forty loops they had never made it past Martin's death. Saving Fillory, and magic would take commitments from Eliot that she hadn't yet shared with Henry. Plans were already in place if they made it that far. 

"Hopefully we haven't wasted three years for nothing." She whispered softly. Her attention returned to Eliot, and she reached to pet the loose curls behind his ear. Sliding into his mind as he dreamed was nearly effortless, but she met resistance as she started shifting through his thoughts. He was protective of Quentin, even in sleep. Jane couldn't say she blamed him. They had already lost each other once, and Eliot had worked so very hard for the life he had now. Out of respect for all of that she spent as little time as possible in his mind, then left Henry to watch him as she slipped back up the steps to finish with Quentin.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane offers Quentin his place back at Brakebills, then she and Henry leave to give Eliot and Quentin their privacy

It was inching towards six in the morning as Jane finally finished untangling the last of Quentin and Eliot's memories. Their lives revolved around one another more intrinsically than they ever had in any of the other time loops. There were loose details that could have fit anywhere. She sat back, unsure that the chain of memories she had crafted would be satisfactory. Testing it, and hoping for the best result, seemed to be the only recourse she had left. It was the nature of memory to be forgotten, or to be remembered out of context. Hopefully, everything would fall into place as long as all the significant events were in order. 

She whispered the spell to create a new dream, and let it unfold in Quentin's mind as she watched him. His eyes darted behind closed lids. His hand grabbed a fistful of sheets. Jane worried that the influx of memory, especially the memory of the last couple of weeks might be too much for him. Eyelids shot open, and he lurched upward in bed. His arms trembled as Quentin wrapped them around his legs. He hadn't realized she was there before he buried his face. Jane wished she had thought of bringing Eliot upstairs before she had woken him. Eliot would have reached to comfort him without hesitation. 

"Quentin." Her voice was even and quiet. Jane prayed that it would anchor him and not surprise him. Watery eyes lifted to stare at her. "I know it's a lot to take in all at once." She hoped his memory fit seamlessly together, for a moment she feared introducing things as two dreams instead of one had created a divide – a before and an after. Maybe including some of Eliot's experiences was confusing him. 

“You left some of El's memory, didn't you?” 

"He asked me to, to better help you understand the choices he made after you were expelled. I can remove it if it's confusing you." 

"No!" Quentin insisted quickly. "I get it. I finally get it. I didn't remember how quickly we bonded at Brakebills. I couldn't wrap my mind around the reasons I was so important to him, or why he was so dedicated to me when I thought he could do better." Quentin rubbed the back of his wrist against the corner of one eye. A smile, not quite a grin, had spread across his face, even as tears continued to form in his eyes. "That idiot, he could have done anything with his life, and he spent it trying to keep me away from hedge magic... oh..." The smile dropped away from his face, and he pressed a hand against his mouth. 

“Quentin? Are you alright?” Jane hadn't quite expected him to cycle through emotions so rapidly. 

“Jules. He was trying to stop me from making the same mistakes Julia did.” Jane fixed her eyes on the bedspread below them. She couldn't tell him that Julia hadn't made mistakes, that the girl he'd loved like a sister had purposefully been denied her place at Brakebills, that she'd taken the only path to magic available to her by design. 

“I saw her death.” She whispered. “I'm sorry you lost one of your friends to magic Quentin.” 

"I begged her to give it up, to not pursue it, at her party. I was, that's right. I was at Brakebills as she had her meltdown." Jane could see his memory falling into place, and she was relieved. The human mind was magical. "That's why she sent me all those postcards." Quentin continued. 

"Can I see them?" Jane asked. Quentin tossed the blankets aside and walked to the dresser. He held a pile of rubber-banded postcards when he returned to sit down again, and Jane watched as he started to go through them. He laughed weakly and rubbed his finger across a star drawn on one of the cards. Jane realized that there were similar designs on every card. Jane realized that they were hedge witch stars, each with a progressively higher number. Julia had been sending her best friend progress reports hidden in plain sight. Quentin leaned towards the bedside table and picked up one of the business cards. He flipped it between his fingers to read the back. 

"A little magic in every bottle." His thumb brushed over the company message on the back of Eliot's business card. "Dammit, El, you hid it all in plain sight." A small grin formed on his face. Jane was confident that there was no way he was leaving Eliot now that things were finally clear. She was rather proud of Eliot for realizing that Quentin needed more than just his own memory to completely understand what had happened to him. 

“I have some good news for you.” She told Quentin.

"Oh?" He looked up at her with familiar curiosity. 

"I'm not sure if you realized it, but I recommended you as a candidate for Brakebills." He shook his head; the connection hadn't been clear to him, which was somewhat disappointing. 

"I hadn't realized that. Thank you, if you hadn't suggested my name I would never have met El." 

"Now that I've restored your memory I think you should go back. I've already squared it with Henry. He agrees with me. You have so much potential as a magician. I would hate to see it go to waste." The joy she expected to spread across his face didn't manifest. In its place, a frown formed. She watched him tuck the hair behind his ears with quick fingers. A spare hair tie lay forgotten in the sheets, and he reached down to pick it up. 

"I would love that." He hesitated and combed his fingers through his hair as he pulled it back into a short tail. "But I'm, I need to learn from Julia's mistakes and my own." He gestured towards the door and the house beyond it. "I have a master's thesis due in less than a month, Eliza. I have a boyfriend that adores me, one who has put more effort into making me happy than anyone else I've ever met." He continued to frown at her, then shook his head. "I'm in the middle of a beautiful life I was too blind to enjoy fully. I finally know enough about my past to enjoy my present." 

“You have so much potential, Quentin.” Jane tried to argue. 

"And I don't want to waste it! I want to go back, just not tomorrow. I want to finish at Columbia first, and have some time with El, maybe when the next school year starts, I'll be ready if Henry's offer still stands." Jane was stunned. She had let a runaway train run off its track for almost three years, and now she wasn't sure she could get it back. 

“I'm sure I can convince Henry to respect your decision.” 

“You seem disappointed.” 

"No, not at all." Jane lied. She had let things go this far. There had to be a way she could drag them out a couple more months. She knew Henry wouldn't agree to a reset until Quentin had died again anyway. "I'm surprised." She confessed. "I assumed you would be eager to return above everything else." She reached to pat his thigh. "Henry and I should give you and Eliot your space. "I'm glad I was able to help you, Quentin." He moved to hug her. 

"Thank you for everything you've done for me." He told her. Jane let him go and stood. Hopefully, Quentin would commit to the school when the new term started and not delay, or change his mind and decide against attending. "Give us about ten minutes before you come downstairs, then you and Eliot can have the private reunion you deserve." 

“Yeah, I need to few minutes to shower and change. That'll work. Tell Henry I said thank you.”

“Of course, Quentin.” Eliza walked down the hall and stairs to the lower level. Eliot was still curled on the couch where she had left him. Henry napped in a chair but woke as her shadow spread across the living room. 

“Are you finally done?” He seemed somewhat agitated with her. 

“Yes, let's leave.” She walked over to the couch and leaned to shake Eliot's shoulder. “Eliot?” 

“What? Q, is he?” Fear that she had been unable to save him clouded his face. 

"Quentin's taking a shower. He will be down in a few minutes. Henry and I are going to leave, so the two of you can have some privacy." He stretched, and nodded, then followed the two of them into the foyer so he could lock the door behind them. Henry waited until they were out on the sidewalk to demand answers from her. 

“Well?” 

"He surprised me, Henry. Both of them grew up in so many ways." 

“He refused to come back?” Henry didn't seem as surprised as she had been. 

“Not until the start of the next year, at least.” 

“Can we wait that long?” 

"I don't see much choice," Jane whispered. She forced her voice louder. "We need to find a way to encourage Alice and Penny to reconnect with the rest of them." Quentin, Eliot, Margo, and Josh were a tight unit. The four of them had bonds that had made them a family. 

"Now that I know what happened with the spell that got Quentin expelled I might have some leverage over them," Henry told her. Jane hooked her hand through his arm. There was a fair amount of traffic as early morning commuters started their routines. The sun was shining down through the cold, clear air. They would have to be careful where they made their portal. 

\-----------------------

Quentin finished his shower in record time and toweled his hair dry even as he stepped into the walk-in closet he and Eliot shared. The little bits of Eliot's memory tied into his had slid his world into perfect focus. He felt like he belonged somewhere even more firmly than he had after he'd been admitted to Brakebills. He dragged jeans up his legs even as stubborn beads of water impeded the process, and yanked a t-shirt over his head despite the dampness of his hair. The neckline wicked up water as he toweled more moisture from the long locks. He didn't want to wait for it to completely dry, so he pulled everything back into a loose wet tail. Stubborn short strands in the front fell free despite his efforts. He wasn't going to waste time on them. 

His bare toes curled against the hall runner as he stepped out of their bedroom. He could feel a nervous anxiety building in his chest. With his whole memory, he felt like a new person. He felt a confidence he hadn't possessed since he'd passed his entrance exam. With the renewed confidence came fresh fear. Quentin knew how he felt about Eliot, and he had a reasonable expectation of what Eliot felt for him, but until he held him until he kissed him until Eliot accepted that he'd changed, none of it would be real. 

He heard movement below him as he walked down the hall, and he stopped at the top of the stairs. Eliot was waiting at the bottom. Quentin could see the fear that lined his face, that he would be rejected by people that were supposed to love him was something that had haunted Eliot since his childhood. The fear melted away as they watched one another. Quentin felt a smile quirk on his lips. Somehow he'd been blessed. 

A grin was spreading across Eliot's face; one Quentin hadn't seen since they had been enrolled at Brakebills together. He hadn't realized it was missing while his memory had been erased. Eliot always smiled for him, but most of those smiles had held a hint of bitterness, or loneliness, or anger. What he saw now was a pure honest to god grin. Nothing was hidden between them now. Eliot had silently accepted that getting his memory back would change him. Quentin walked down the steps to join him; he stopped one step from the floor to accommodate their height difference. 

"Hi." He reached for Eliot. His fingers curled in a reassuring grip on the back of Eliot's neck. 

"I missed you," Eliot told him as long arms circled him. Something lost had been found for both of them. Quentin looped his arms around Eliot's neck and kissed him. His legs went tight around Eliot's waist when he was picked up and kissed back. The combination of Eliot's arms around him and his telekinesis to compensate for his weight made Quentin feel lighter than air. The kiss broke. 

"I love you," Quentin told him before leaning in to kiss him again. He rested his forehead against Eliot's when they took a moment to breathe. Eliot didn't seem to be in any hurry to put him down. 

“How soon are you going back to school?” Eliot asked softly. 

"I'm not, not right now. Eliza made the offer, but we didn't pick a date. I probably won't return until they take the next group of first years." 

“Oh, Q.” The relief Eliot felt colored his tone. 

“I want to finish my masters, and you promised me London.” 

“I want to take you to Venice too. Margo and I have been a couple of times. The whole city is teeming with magic.” 

“Italy would probably be a great opportunity to help you prepare for her certification. I want you to get it. I'll help.” Eliot carried him into the living room. Quentin tucked his knees against Eliot's hips as they sat together. “You're exhausted.” He murmured. “I'm not going to leave, El. I'm not going to follow the same desperate path as Jules.”

"I want you to go back to Brakebills. I want you to learn magic. I shouldn't have hidden it from you." Quentin shushed him with a kiss. 

"I understand why you did everything you did. Promise me you won't keep a secret like that from me again, and I'll forgive everything. I've already forgiven you everything." 

"I couldn't keep another secret like this. You have no idea how draining it was." Quentin pressed his lips to Eliot's throat, then the second one under his jaw. He had a feeling they would be fine. 

“Thank you for not letting go of me.” He whispered


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

"I'll call Mrs. Barton back first thing in the morning," Eliot told Margo as he walked down the street towards the townhouse. "She asked us to cater for either twelve or fourteen. She was still waiting to hear back on the last confirmation." He listened to her as he opened the mailbox and started to go through the pile inside. Envelope paper tore as he ripped open a bill with his telekinesis. The folded paper inside snapped straight as he read off the information. A moth batted aimlessly against the porch light above his head. 

"I think she wanted to taste four different wines, so Josh and I will have to sit down to come up with the menu. I have a recipe for a white chocolate raspberry petit four I want to try." Eliot tucked a manila folder addressed to Quentin under his arm. It felt like a thin notebook from how effortlessly it flexed. It was probably something he'd ordered for his thesis that had arrived too late to be included. 

The townhouse was warm compared to the mid-December weather outside. Eliot was looking forward to their trip to Europe. The change in climate would do both of them good. The pile of mail floated in the air as he shouldered off his coat. He saw Quentin step into view from the kitchen. 

“Hey, El.” Eliot waved to him. 

“I'm home now, Bambi. Call me back later if you have more questions. I love you too, Q says hi.” 

"Hi, Margo," Quentin called as he came closer. Eliot heard her laugh. "Have a good night, no, I still haven't decided about Christmas. If you must invite Alice and Penny, we could have it at your place." Eliot rested his hand against the small of Quentin's back. The mail continued to bob beside them. "Because I'm not sure I want to let Penny in my house just yet. I'm hanging up now." He told her as he reached to press the button on his Bluetooth. The device beeped in his ear as the call ended. Quentin arched up onto his toes to kiss him hello. 

"I tried to make dinner, but you know my talent for burning water, so I ordered Italian and had it delivered." 

“That sounds great.” Eliot finally took hold of the floating pile of mail again. He passed the manila folder to Quentin. “I guess you ordered something that didn't get here in time.” 

"I didn't order anything from Britain." Quentin frowned down at the package, turned it over and started to undo the red string closure, only to stop in the middle. "Nevermind, I'll look at this later. My paper's already been turned in." He carried the envelope into the living room, and dropped it, face down, onto the piles of books that now sat along the wall. He needed to get everything he had borrowed returned to the libraries they had been acquired from. 

“Is Margo serious about inviting Alice and Penny?”

"She and Alice stayed much closer than I realized. If you don't want them there, I'm sure she'll politely tell them to fuck off." Hearing Quentin laugh was music to Eliot's ears. He settled his hand around Quentin's waist as they walked back into the dining room together. Quentin had ordered a full meal complete with salad and bread. Together they moved everything from the kitchen to the table. 

Eliot took a couple of minutes before they started to connect his phone to the stereo, then poured wine to match their meal for both of them. Now that he no longer had to lie it felt like a million pounds of tension had been lifted off his shoulders. The change was equally evident in Quentin. His boyfriend spent more time at the shop with him. Josh and Margo had become house guests. They had even scheduled a second dinner with James and his girlfriend to celebrate once Quentin finished his finals. Eliot was thinking about throwing a party for him. He was thinking about a lot of things. The idea of possibly proposing during their trip to Europe had even crossed his mind. 

A proposal was something he'd solidly rejected while Quentin's memory was blocked. The very idea of asking Quentin for something so long term when he was without his full mind had been impossible to consider. Now that they were free of all the secrets there was nothing to hold him back.


End file.
